


Despite Everything, It's Still You

by AngeliaDark



Series: Despite Everything [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Dadster, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fontcest, HorrorTale, Interuniversal shenanigans, So many Papyruses, Swapfell, The Void, Underfell, Underlust, Understanding, also, dusttale, mentions of cannibalism, underswap - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papyrus meets the AU versions of himself, and finds things he has in common with them all--the good, and the bad--and learns more about himself in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Underswap

Timelines were weird.

If there was one thing Papyrus understood about those shenanigans (and he tried not to think about it too much, it made his skull hurt), it was just that--WEIRD. 

SOMEHOW, Sans had managed to open tears in time and space and found--to his and Papyrus's amazement--completely different universes.  And within those universes were different versions of themselves.

Sans preferred to keep tabs on these universes as they were discovered, giving them odd names to tell them apart from their own and others, and for some time, he simply did distant studying as so to not mess anything up.  THAT lasted all of two days before he was found out.

By, to Papyrus's amazement...HIMSELF.

But NOT himself.

He could only stare in wonder at his doppleganger who stepped through the tear between the universes, flanked by a smaller Skeleton who looked torn between equal parts amazement and keeping his guard up.  After making sure getting close wouldn't cause a universal Armageddon, the two sets of brothers finally properly introduced themselves as _"THE MAGNIFICENT MWEH HEH HEH"_ Sans and _"Sup"_ Papyrus. 

Papyrus could scarcely properly introduce himself as he took in his other self.  That Papyrus ( _"Call me Paps"_ ) was just so...DIFFERENT.  Slumped and almost lazy-looking, wearing an oversized orange hoodie, khaki cargo shorts, and dirty sneakers with a cigarette between his teeth, he was the very image of...well, NOT Papyrus.  In fact, that universe's Sans seemed more like Papyrus, with homemade armor, practically sparkling eyelights, and an endless enthusiasm for what was going on.  His Sans seemed amused by his other self's antics and was more than happy to answer any questions while the Papyruses did their own thing.

...Which was step outside so Paps could smoke without sending his brother into a tizzy.

Paps tapped his pack against his hand before taking one out and fishing out his lighter.  He noticed Papyrus staring at him and grinned, extending the pack.  "Want one?" he asked, a teasing tilt to his voice.  Papyrus flicked his eyelights to the pack for a moment before reaching out and taking one, noticing Pap's eyelights flicker with surprise before he clicked open his lighter and lit his before passing it to Papyrus.

Papyrus licked it on and lit up the end of the cigarette, taking a drag before exhaling, rolling his eyelights at the look Paps was giving him.  "...what?"

"Heh, nothin'," Paps replied, leaning against the side of the house.  "Just surprised YOU smoke when Sans won't even look at th' things."

Papyrus snorted.  "I live with Sans, I have to cope SOMEhow," he retorted before going serious.  "I don't make a habit of it, I just take it when it's offered by the other sentries, and then I just keep a pack on hand when I want one up here.  It calms me down when I'm stressed."

Paps made a thoughtful sound, turning his gaze upward at the sky.  "...you've got Surface life, a good brother, an' a great group of friends..." he murmured.  "...Somethin' still stressing you out, buddy?"  He glanced over at Papyrus, noticing the other's tentative expression.  "...you can tell me y'know.  Think of it like givin' yourself a pep talk in th' mirror."

There was a moment of silence before Papyrus sighed, running a hand over his face.  "....it was...always knowing that Sans was hiding things from me, but not wanting to push..." he finally said.  "...seeing him depressed but not being able to help.  FINALLY knowing about the timelines, remembering everything, and just......feeling helpless and not able to do anything about it...."  He sighed, taking another drag from the cigarette.  "He doesn't want me to worry, I know that...but I'm his brother.  I can't help it.  I WANT to help...but I just....can't."

Paps stared for a moment before nodding.  "I get that," he replied.  "...You might've figured this out by now, but where I come from, I'M the one who had the hell of havin' to remember everything in past timelines.  And....even if I did know...there were some things I couldn't do anything about, except hope for the best, even when I didn't feel there was any point to hope."  He ground out his cigarette against the bottom of his shoe.  "Sans was ignorant to it all out of luck, and I wanted him to STAY that way.  He didn't deserve that horror...and you don't either.  That's what Sans was tryin' to do, I'm guessin'.  But if you don't mind my askin'...how DID you find out?"

Papyrus gave him a wry grin.  "...Same way any little brother would," he replied.  "I went snooping and found out my own way."  The grin dropped as he finished off his own cigarette.  "...I wish I hadn't.  And you're right.  It's terrible...remembering everything.  Seeing everything differently.  It's...made me want to hide Sans away so he'll never have to deal with it ever again...but...again...I can't....I can just..."

"...Sit back and watch," Paps finished, reaching over and holding Papyrus's shoulder.  "...Take it from me, buddy...you can try all you can an' still fail.  HORRIBLY.  But just from what I've seen from my Sans an' yours....they're the happiest when we're just there for 'em.  An' nobody should be expected to smile all th' time.  Except for us.  Because we're Skeletons.  We're ALWAYS smiling."

Papyrus let out a groan, dropping his head back against the house.  "That was terrible, and you should feel terrible," he grumbled.  Paps snickered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.

"Hey, you have YOUR way of coping with stuff, I have mine," he replied.  "But...y'know...if you ever wanna talk about stuff you don't think you can with your Sans...I'll hear you out.  It'd be nice to talk to someone about stuff on my end too."

Papyrus nodded, though he looked a little dubious.  "...wouldn't you feel better talking to Sans--MY Sans, though?" he queried.  "You two seem to have more in common." 

Paps shrugged a little, staring back up at the sky.  "...true," he conceded.  "...But he's not me."

The two stood in silence for several long moments before Papyrus stood up straight.  "...I'll take you up on that offer," he said.  "Thank you."

"No prob," Paps replied.  "You wanna grab somethin' to eat somewhere?  I could use somethin' besides tacos.  Love my brother to pieces, but sometimes enough's enough, y'know?"

Papyrus let out a nervous chuckle, having already faced that similar issue concerning Sans and spaghetti.  "Yes," he said.  "I don't frequent there much, but Grillby's is close by."

"Grillby's, huh?" Paps said thoughtfully, straightening and heading down the sidewalk with Papyrus.  "I'm guessin' he's more like my Muffet here...back in my universe, he runs a poncy tea shop.  At least Muffet's has a bar."

"I don't really drink much..."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you."

* * *

 

Come to find, according to Paps, Papyrus could hold his liquor surprisingly well.  He could even take some of the harder shots, something Papyrus guessed might have been due to him habitually putting habanero peppers into his spaghetti sauce for years.

Paps was slowly pacing himself; he was a self-proclaimed lightweight and preferred to get hammered in his own familiar universe.  While the two drank and split an appetizer (and the rest of Paps's cigarette pack), they slowly opened up a little more about each other and their universe. 

Just like how Sans labeled this universe 'Swap', it did indeed seem that everything was swapped.  Toriel was reigning Queen, Undyne was the Head Royal Scientist, Alphys was Captain of the Royal Guard, and Sans was training to get a place in the Guard himself.

"He's got a lot of heart," Paps said, nursing a glass of whiskey.  "But he's just...I dunno, I guess it's just me bein' overprotective of him.  I nearly lost him once before, and it'd kill me to lose him for real."

"Isn't he your big brother?" Papyrus asked. 

Paps shrugged.  "Doesn't mean I don't worry," he replied, rubbing his nasal bone.  "...might...be a little sore comin' from me to you...but I used to be Captain of the Royal Guard."

"YOU?" Papyrus exclaimed.  "Seriously!?"

"Seriously.  I was younger, strong, able-bodied, powerful, and ready to follow in my father's footsteps.  But I'm tellin' ya right now, Papyrus...it's not nearly all it's cracked up to be."  He fished another cigarette from his pack and lit it up.  "You lose yourself in th' Guard....with everyone I had to punish, every wayward Monster I had to take down...another piece of me got lost and I never got it back.  It's about putting a clamp on your own squeamishness and doin' your job...even if it's somethin' you hate yourself for later."  He took a long drag and let the smoke sift through his teeth.

"...Before Chara fell, there was another human in my time as Captain....who would be the sixth soul.  A little girl who did nothin' wrong an' only wanted to go home.  I was sent to find her...and get her soul."  He pressed a hand to his face, his shoulders shaking.  "...I'll....spare you th' details....but....I carried her body to th' labs myself...an'....an' I saw how th' souls were extracted...an' I couldn't stop thinkin' about that little girl an' what I had done to her....an' I just LOST it.  I tore that lab apart an' Sans an' Undyne an' Alphys all held me back until Toriel got there....but by that time, I'd caused enough damage to sensitive devices concerning the Void that caused it to malfunction. 

"Me an' Sans got caught in th' explosion...I managed to shield him, but not only did it destroy my HP forever, but I began...SEEING things....KNOWING things I shouldn't.  I couldn't take it after that...an' so I quit.  Entirely.  I threw my armor into Toriel's courtyard, packed up, an' moved to Snowdin."  He rubbed over his eye sockets.  "...Sans...always wanted to be in the Royal Guard, an' his way of coping with my quitting was to take it up...hoping I would come back to it too....I never told him how unhappy I was with it."  He sighed, sitting back and finishing off his cigarette in silence.

Papyrus's hands wrung tightly, his eyelights dim and downcast.  "...Sans used to be a scientist," he said quietly.  "...I'm wondering if he quit because of an accident there too...one that made him...AWARE."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Paps replied.  "...not gonna lie, Papyrus, it's absolutely SHITTY, knowin' what we know, an' you an' my brother are lucky you don't experience it.  I wouldn't wish somethin' like that on anyone."

"...I'd still take it from him if I could," Papyrus said with conviction that made Paps smile sadly.

"I know you would.  Because I'd do anything for my brother."  He sighed.  "...do me a favor...I haven't told Sans as much as your Sans has told you...an' I'd rather it stay that way for as long as I'm able."  He glanced out the window quietly.  "...That explosion in th' lab sorta...reset his mentality back a few years, an' he was lucky enough to get away with just THAT.  After havin' to raise me himself after Dad died, he...deserved a little more of an innocent life..."

Papyrus nodded.  "...I won't say anything," he promised, then contemplated the rest of his drink before knocking it all back.  "...I'd give the same to Sans if I could."

"Trust me," Paps replied, grinding out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray, "the best thing you can give him is your support...and maybe a good lazy day a month...and understanding that...there's no real way to feel better about it except to let the bad feelings pass.  Alright?"

"Alright.  ......do you want anymore appetizers?"

"Nah, but if you're payin', I'll have another glass of whiskey."

"I--wait, you don't have money!?"

* * *

 

Papyrus ended up dragging Paps home, finding both of the Sanses tuckered out on the couch with evidence of there being a remote war over what channel to watch.  After taking a detour to pull a blanket over the two smaller Skeletons, he helped Paps upstairs to his bedroom and settled him down.  "You're as sloppy a sleeper as Sans," he griped lightheartedly as he tucked his other self into bed, pausing before tucking his hand under the back of Paps's skull to pull the hood up over the other's head, smiling a little when Paps seemed to relax into sleep even further, knowing that he liked his skull covered while he slept too.

He quietly shut his bedroom door, standing in the hall for awhile, just thinking things over.  It was almost unbearable, thinking of everything he had learned...thinking of how just a few things different would have resulted in him being where Sans was now...where Paps was.  And seeing the weariness he had been so blind to on Sans, clearly displayed on his own face...of how many times he had called Sans lazy, of all the times he may have inadvertently hurt his brother with his words and ignorance...

Papyrus rubbed his face, sighing as he quietly walked to Sans's room and peeked inside, surprised to see how clean it was and immediately thinking that Paps's brother might have had something to do with it...and now wishing it was its usual, comfortable mess.  He sighed tiredly as he walked over to the frameless mattress and flopped back onto it before curling up tightly.  Although it wasn't one of his designated 'sleep days', he still felt overwhelmed and exhausted, wondering if this was how Sans felt, every day, every moment of his life, not knowing how he could function this way.  He shifted his scarf around and tugged the end over his head, relaxing back and dozing off without, for once, his big brother there to tell him his story.

* * *

 

The other brothers figured it was time to head back to Swap; Sans because he didn't want to miss out on a training day with Alphys, and Paps because he didn't want any unpleasant surprises in his timeline, the two sets bidding one another farewell. 

"It was wonderful to meet you!" the other Sans exclaimed as he shook Papyrus's hand.  "We will simply HAVE to spend more time together next time!  We could even TRAIN together!"  The small Skeleton looked almost too overcome with anticipation, and while Papyrus genuinely felt assent to the prospect, he couldn't help but feel that small bruise of guilt on his conscience say _'this could have been YOUR brother'_ , almost ruining the goodbye.

"Hey."

Papyrus looked up, seeing Paps standing in front of him while the two Sanses were farewelling themselves.  Paps slipped a pack of cigarettes from his hoodie pocket, sneakily sliding them into Papyrus's shirt pocket.  "I know you'll need 'em," he said quietly.  "But listen...if you ever wanna talk...you know where to find me.  You let me wail on about my issues...don't hesitate to call in the favor, alright?"

Papyrus nodded, giving Paps a grateful smile.  "...thank you," he replied, reaching out and taking Paps's hand, squeezing it.  "...I'll take better care of Sans," he promised.  "He's had enough of taking care...it's time he was taken care of now."

Paps squeezed Papyrus's hand back before letting go.  "You know he doesn't mind," he said quietly.  "He just needs a little appreciation for it, is all."  He gave Papyrus a wink, turning to the interuniversal hole in the spacial area of the machine.  "You take care of you, alright?"  He waved before gesturing over to Sans, who hurried over and left, everything going quiet.

"Well that was a thing," Sans said conversationally, shoving his hands into his pockets.  "Never knew I could be so enthusiastic about things."  He gave Papyrus a little nudge.  "Y'think I should try out for the Royal Guard now?"

Papyrus's fingers twitched slightly, his smile mildly forced as he turned to Sans.  "Not much of a Guard TO try out for up here, Sans," he replied.  "But your work at Frisk's school is exemplary."

Sans snorted.  "I'm just th' janitor," he said.  "Nothin' special--"  He blinked when Papyrus hugged him tightly.  "...Paps?"

"...whether you're a janitor or a Royal Scientist, everything you do is special," Papyrus said.  "Most of all being my big brother." 

Sans was quiet for a moment before he raised his arms and hugged Papyrus back.  "...thanks, bro," he muttered, his voice muffled but still definitely conveying a level of emotion Papyrus didn't often hear.  After some time, he leaned back, subtly wiping his eye sockets.  "Ah...let's go get somethin' to eat," he said, giving Papyrus a smile.  "I'm practically weak with hunger.  It's so bad, I could've sworn I was seein' double not too long ago."

"...that was terrible, Sans, even for you.  Which means you really MUST be hungry."  Papyrus steered Sans for the kitchen, glancing back at the machine behind them before shutting the basement door behind them.


	2. Meeting Underfell

Looking into other universes was interesting and all, but Sans had one cardinal rule concerning the machine--to not EVER use it alone.

Naturally, though, Papyrus's curiosity about the other universes often had him disobeying that rule as he used it to look through the different universes that were on file.  He felt a small squeeze in his soul when he came across Swap, thinking about Paps and everything he had learned about his other self...and about his own life in general.  He wondered if that's what would have happened if HE had been accepted into the Royal Guard...what would have happened if he had found Frisk first as a Guardsman...

He didn't WANT to think about it...especially since it had appeared to be a very real possibility of it happening.

He sometimes wanted to go to Paps's universe to talk as promised...but he always stopped himself last moment.  If he knew Paps--and he did, being him--he hated burdening people with his own problems unless it was reciprocal, and he didn't want Paps to think he was going JUST to unload personal issues.  So he remained where he was in the basement, flipping through filed universes until one caught his eyelight.

Fell.

Papyrus recalled being in the basement when Sans was archiving this particular universe, and was confused at Sans's conviction that Papyrus not get too curious about it.  He gave a cursory glance at the archive data.

**FELL**

**THREAT LEVEL: 8/10**

**DIFFERENTIAL LEVEL: 7/10**

**NOBODY IS SAFE, NOT EVEN THE FLOWER.**

That was...odd.  But still curious, even if his curiosity was a bit morbid.  What made this universe so dangerous?  So DIFFERENT?  Sans explained that differential elements were put into place to give an idea of how skewed off the universe was in relation to theirs, and that anything over a five was to be treated with caution.  Heck, even Swap was a five out of ten.

Papyrus glanced backward at the basement door, weighing his options.  He wanted to explore these new universes, but he wanted to be safe.  He ALSO wanted to not wait until Sans was in the adventuring mood before doing so.  He knew his way through machine by watching Sans; punching in the time and space coding, recalling the open veil space area, and diving in for a quick getaway.  He ALSO learned to try to keep out of sight until they came across a Sans, who would obviously take their appearance much better than anyone else.  Paps seemed to be the exception to that rule, but Papyrus figured this universe would be the generality of the principle.

He quietly looked over the coding for Fell, his fingers twitching as they hovered over the buttons to press that would punch a hole in the veil between their universes.  A quick peek wouldn't hurt, would it?  He would keep his guard up, and stay near the veil spot, just long enough to sate his curiosity.  He quickly punched in the code for Fell and pressed the activation button, the code numbers on the machine rearranging until it formed into Fell's universal code, the machine's arch forming an empty space for Papyrus to walk through into that universe.  He took a needless breath and stepped out.

It was Snowdin, he immediately realized, just past the town and in the woods.  Although he knew this place by heart--he knew every inch of his former snowy home--it still felt...different.  The air seemed colder, the atmosphere darker, and the scent was...off.  It didn't have that cold, piney smell he once knew and loved, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

Papyrus took a few slow, quiet steps out, looking around in silence as he curled his arms around himself.  The air had a sense of darkness to it that made him feel...well, just not good.  Like he was about to hear bad news, but didn't know where and what about.  It didn't matter if this was a familiar place....it was too different.

...but not SO different that he halted mid-step in a VERY familiar area and didn't move.

This particular area was one of the clearest paths in the woods, which is why in HIS universe, he set up a trap right in this exact place.  But although there was no trap to be SEEN...he still couldn't shake the idea that there must be one here too.  Just very well-hidden to make it seem less obvious.  This very much seemed to be a reasonable case here. 

He slowly retracted his step, looking around silently and seeing subtle disturbances around trees and some odd pileups of snow around the area that didn't seem like it would have amounted naturally.  It was very different from his own puzzles, and he honestly didn't know what to expect.  What he DID know, however, was that he had best go the VERY long way around if he wanted to avoid it. 

Around it he went--and he proceeded to get snapped up in a metal weave net.

Brilliant.  He should have seen this coming. 

Papyrus struggled in the net but the metal weaving held fast, taking a moment to think before he instead aimed for the branch that held the net, then used blue magic on his own soul to slow his descent to the ground once the branch gave, landing in the snow with a thump.

Well.  He was out of the tree, but still in the net.  This couldn't get any--

"What the absolute HELL!?"

Spoke too soon. 

Papyrus peered through the net, squinting to see through the metal weaving, the snow, and the darkness to see who had approached whilst he was struggling in the net, only able to see a pair of severe-looking red boots in his line of vision.  He was about to possibly inquire for help when the netting suddenly seemed to fall apart a brief moment before a hand snatched him up by the collar and slammed him face-first into the tree.  "HEY--!"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" demanded a loud, authoritative voice that sounded like it was used to shout a LOT.  "ANSWER ME BEFORE I DUST YOU WHERE YOU STAND!"  A sharp weapon poised itself against the back of Papyrus's neck bone, and Papyrus leaned out of the way.

"My name is Papyrus!" Papyrus yelped.  "I don't come to harm anyone!"

There was a heavy beat of silence before the weapon was removed and the offender stepped back.  Papyrus braced himself for a moment before turning around to see who it was.

In all honesty, he would not have recognized himself, had it not been for the red scarf being the giveaway.  If he thought PAPS was different from himself, this was almost unrecognizable, all sharpness and no hint of softness anywhere from the stance to the stare.  Even his teeth and the edges of his eye sockets were sharp, a wisp of blood-red magic glowing in his right eye socket, which was heavily cracked and scarred.  He was donned in black armor that had the Royal Emblem on the chestplate, paired with red boots and gloves that matched the scarf.

This Papyrus looked him over--once, twice, and a third time--before vanishing the bone construct in his hand and crossing his arms.  "You're a bit out of your way," he said, his voice pitched lower than Papyrus's own with a rougher undertone as though he did way too much yelling.  Or screaming.  "Any particular REASON you're strolling through here like you belong?"

Papyrus flexed his hands several times, feeling sweat bead on his skull despite the cold.  "...I...was curious..." he said cautiously, feeling deep in his soul that he needed to keep his guard up and answers honest and brief.  "...and....you...know that I'm...?"

"Of course I know," was the other's clipped response.  "I make it my BUSINESS to know what my piece of shit brother does in that lab of his."  He ignored Papyrus's offended glare at the use of address for his Sans as he folded his hands behind his back and began circling Papyrus like a predator.  "The question is..." he continued, his eyelight glowing brighter, "...what to do with YOU?"

Papyrus resisted the urge to curl up on himself...or lash out; both reactions that seemed both so natural and so foreign to him in this moment.  "...Like I said, he replied, his voice remaining firm, "I was just curious about this...place.  I'm not here to mess anything up, or something like that."  He looked up when the other came to a halt in front of him, straightening his spine on reflex to match the other's height, heeled boots on the other be damned.

"...I see," the other Papyrus said, his blood-red eyelight boring into Papyrus's own orange-tinted ones with enough intensity to almost physically burn.  "...has your curiosity been satiated?"

"...no," Papyrus replied.  "It hasn't."  His other self's grin broadened, sharpened teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Well then.  I would hate to disappoint you," the other replied before turning on heel.  "Follow me.  And don't draw attention to yourself."  He set to walking and after a moment's hesitation, Papyrus followed.  Papyrus recognized the path as AROUND Snowdin, to be able to sneak in through the back.  It was extra walking, but Papyrus didn't mind.  It kept his mind off of the constant bad feeling he was getting just by being here.

Eventually, his other self led the way to the back door of the house, looking around with heavily-guarded suspicion before unlocking the door and grabbing Papyrus to shove him inside before following and locking the door back again.  Papyrus glanced behind him, his hands flexing hard at the DIFFERENCE in the house.

Back in the Underground if HIS world, his home had been cozy, tidy, and homey.  HERE...there was little furniture to be seen, the house itself looked somewhat decrepit, and it was COLD.  His other self finished locking the door and turned to face Papyrus, and Papyrus felt a shudder run down his spine.  In proper lighting, this version of himself was...frightening.  The armor was rough and severe, bone structure thicker and sharper, and the teeth...good gods, the teeth...that filing looked like it must have been AGONY.  But not as agonizing as the scarred right eye socket; scarring like THAT must have been because of something HORRIBLE.

This version of him looked him over with a solid red eyelight of his right eye socket, his gaze sharp as a razor and expression unimpressed.  "You certainly come from a COZY universe, don't you?" he said.  "Not so much as a scar to be seen.  Do you even FIGHT in your universe, or have you settled down to some pedestrian job where all you do is twiddle your thumbs all day?"

Papyrus scowled, huffing.  "I'll have you know, I was in training to be in the Royal Guard!" he shot back on reflex, only to mentally wince at the memory of the conversation he had with Paps.  "...I would have....made it too, if we hadn't gone to the Surface--"

"The WHAT!?"  This Papyrus slammed his hand into the wall next to Papyrus's head, practically looming over him with a fiery eyelight.  "The SURFACE!?  YOU live on the SURFACE!?"  Papyrus nodded briefly, and his other self's expression went from almost...excited?....to petulantly angry, leaning back away from Papyrus and turning his head away with a loud 'tch'.  "It figures," he growled.  "It figures one of the WEAKER universes would be granted such a gift while we're left here to wallow in this hellhole."

"...weaker...?" Papyrus asked delicately.  His other self snorted.

"Yes.  WEAKER."  His eyelight flared and Papyrus felt a rush of battle intent crash into him, bringing up the other's stats on reflex.

**THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS**

**HP:  16,000**

**ATK:  65**

**DEF:  50**

**LV:  20**

Papyrus almost felt sick, looking at those stats.  It was...WRONG.  It was WRONG for someone who was essentially HIM to have THAT much LV.  And he felt AFRAID.  This much killer intent focused directly on him--it made him AFRAID.  He yelped when something stung his cheekbone, looking up to see that his other self had smacked his face to snap him out of it.

"WEAKER," the other said, sounding almost offended by it.  "Your universe must be that delightfully HAPPY one that Sans laments over so much.  Where there's love and friendship and CARING, with a good king and time to piddle around rather than watching your back so someone doesn't STAB it and end your wretched existence!"  He turned away from Papyrus, his hands clasping tightly behind his back.  "Does this universe disgust you, peon?" he spoke again suddenly.  "Do you want to go home?  To be with your FRIENDS?  With your own brother, where you can forget this world and enjoy the ignorance you were blessed with?"

Yes, Papyrus thought.  He DID.  But he said nothing.  The other scoffed, pacing to the living room.  "I thought so," he said lowly.  "Just as soft and feeble-minded as my good-for-nothing brother."  He noticed Papyrus's instinctive flinch of anger, his eyelight sharpening.  "If you have something to say, then say it."

"...why are you so cruel...?" Papyrus finally said.  "...why is EVERYONE cruel here?  Isn't there ANYONE who's kind?!"  He could feel his verbal filter fail him, overwhelmed by all the negativity and BADNESS he felt in this world.  "Being cruel only breeds more cruelty!  It doesn't make anyone feel better, and it doesn't make the world here better either!  You speak so cruelly about your Sans, but I KNOW he loves you, he doesn't DESERVE--"

"SHUT UP!" the other shouted, his aura flaring out angrily as he glowered at Papyrus hatefully.  "YOU SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!  YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"  He was in front of Papyrus in an instant, pinning him against the wall.  "How DARE you?!" he hissed, his hand clenching into the front of Papyrus's shirt.  "How fucking DARE you judge me?!  This isn't YOUR universe, you pathetic whelp!  YOU weren't born here!  YOU didn't grow up here!  YOU didn't put your heart and soul and TRUST into someone and have them TEAR IT TO SHREDS!"

He pointed a sharp finger to his right eye socket.  "WHERE do you think I got this, huh!?  WHO do you think gave this to me!?  HOW WOULD _YOU_ REACT IF YOUR BELOVED BIG BROTHER DECIDED THAT HE WOULD TAKE EVERYTHING OUT ON YOU AND SCAR YOU FOR LIFE JUST BECAUSE HE HAD A BAD DAY!?"  He leaned in closer, forcing Papyrus to look him in the eyelights.  "How would YOU react if you decided to just ONCE more place your trust in someone, only to have the last shred of innocence you had torn away because of their sick whims?  If you had only ONE shot of making it in this hellish world, and it would mean abandoning every piece of goodness in your soul just to make sure you lived until tomorrow?  That every life you took meant another day you could live?"

He leaned back, growling down at Papyrus's shaking form.  "...normally...I would say you're too fucking WEAK to do anything like that," he said, his eyelight dimming slightly.  "...but you're me.  Circumstances do not change that fundamental fact.  So, rather than be disgusted by what I'VE done, ask yourself this."  He leaned in close again.  "What would YOU be willing to do to live another day?"

Papyrus felt his soul lurch, feeling ill at the question, the IDEA that he could do something so...HORRIBLE.  He raised his hands to his face, pressing them to his skull as he stood there silently with his other self, the question mulling around his mind like hot sludge.  After several long moments, he heard his other self sigh.

"Don't think about it so much," the other said, sounding more tired than anything.  "That's the key to it.  You don't think about it.  Instead think about WHY you do it."  He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.  "I'm not a mindless killer.  I can honestly say that I have never lashed out at anyone who hasn't provoked me first.  It might be arrogant to think so, but I believe it makes me better than some of the other Monsters here."  He turned his head to glance out the window.  "I kill to survive.  I kill to sustain my way of living.  ....and I kill to defend."

Papyrus swore he heard a touch of fondness in that last part, and just couldn't help but know whom Papyrus was referring to.  "....you're right," Papyrus said softly, ducking his head.  "...I don't know what it's like....and I have no reason to claim to know otherwise.  I've...had a good life, where I come from.  I have friends...family....sunlight to wake up to in the morning....and..."  His hands clenched tightly.  "...I don't know WHAT lengths I would go through...to keep it that way."

The other made a noncommittal sound before pushing off from the wall.  "If you're ANYTHING like me," he said lowly, "you'd kill to maintain it if it came down to it."  He glanced out the window quietly.  "...my shift is almost over, and I know for a FACT the Dogs won't be as merciful as I am.  I barely keep them from using Sans as a chew toy as it is."  He walked to the closet and took out a leather jacket that looked as though it had been sewn over several times and handing it to Papyrus.  "I don't know if we smell similar to the Dogs, but I don't want to risk it."

Papyrus held the jacket in his hands for a moment before tugging it on, adjusting it over his sleeve cuffs.  "...thank you.  But, won't you want it back?"

"It's years old and I rarely wear it," the other said shortly.  "Keep it, I'll just make another one."  He jerked his head to the back door.  "Now hurry up, before shift change." 

Papyrus walked to the door and unlocked it, his hand resting on the doorknob.  "...I want to know something..." he said slowly, his hand tightening slightly.  "...and...feel free to not answer, but...I just want to know..."  Pause.  "...do you care about Sans?  At all?"

Silence.

And then, "Do you really think I'd go through any effort to keep him alive, fed, and clothed if I didn't?  It's WHY I kill."

Papyrus nodded, not looking back as he unlocked the door and stepped out into the unforgivable cold, walking back to the thin veil in silence, mulling over this world and its Papyrus...and what that MEANT.  He came to the veil and sighed, glancing back as he stepped through and nearly stumbling when he saw a small Skeleton with an oversized coat gaping at him with wide red eyelights.

He fell through the other end into his basement, taking a moment to readjust to the FEELING of being back before sitting up and typing at the panel to close the portal, staring at Fell's file code in silence.

He had MORE than enough to think about.

He barely had the door closed before Sans came in from grocery shopping.  The older brother put the bags on the counter, glancing over at Papyrus with a grin.  "Hey, swanky jacket there bro," he said.  "Where'd you get it?"

Papyrus looked down at the jacket, thumbing the bottom of it thoughtfully.  "...a friend gave it to me," he replied.  "I'll go change to make dinner."

"Sure thing, Paps," Sans said, putting things away as Papyrus walked upstairs.  The younger brother shut his bedroom door and leaned against the wall, absently slipping his hands into the jacket pocket and pausing when he felt something inside.  He withdrew his hand, seeing a folded-up piece of paper, and nervously unfolded it.

**fixed your jacket.  sorry you tore it killing those guys for me.**

The message, though something he'd never see addressed to him in his own lifetime, seemed so casual and at-home with this familiar handwriting that for a moment...Papyrus almost felt the need to thank Sans for it.

And he didn't know if he should be more horrified or touched by the fact.


	3. Meeting Swapfell

Papyrus kept the jacket in his closet along with the note that went with it, and more than once found himself sitting in the back under his hanging clothes just holding the jacket to him tightly, rereading the note over and over again.  Each time, he felt a stronger connection with the note, and both loathed and held onto the feeling more and more.

**fixed your jacket.  sorry you tore it killing those guys for me.**

_"I kill to survive.  I kill to sustain my way of living.  ....and I kill to defend."_

_"...I don't know WHAT lengths I would go through...to keep it that way."_

He knew.  He knew what lengths he would go through if Sans were in trouble.  He didn't want to admit it to himself, but the feeling he got holding this jacket, reading this note...feeling a twinge of gratitude for words written TO him, even it wasn't HIM...he knew.  He would do the unthinkable.  If not for himself...then definitely for Sans.  ALWAYS for Sans.

Papyrus sighed, putting the note back into the jacket pocket and tucked it back into the little crevice behind his hanging clothes, not wanting Sans to find it by accident.  He didn't want to open up that can of worms and have to talk about things he didn't WANT to talk about.  It wasn't just things HE didn't want to talk about...it was also things his other self didn't want getting out.  He just KNEW it.  He had already gathered that Fell didn't want anyone seeing Sans as a potential weakness, as something to take away.  To pretend Sans meant nothing was protecting Sans, no matter how much they hurt each other.

It was...sad.  It was just SAD. 

He didn't like thinking on it too much; it made his head and his soul hurt.  He sighed, heading downstairs to go take a head-clearing walk and had to grab onto the banister when a minor explosion from the basement rattled the house.  It took all of two seconds for him to jump to the worst possible conclusion.  "SANS!" he shouted, jumping the rest of the way down and wrenching the basement door open, waving aside the smoke as he looked around wildly.  "SANS!"

"Be QUIET, you beast!"

"I didn't speak, m'Lord."

"WHAT?"

Papyrus worked his way in further, coming up to the machine and pausing, his worry for Sans put on hold as his mind took a few moments to take in what he was seeing.

Sans was there...but he WASN'T Sans.  And he wasn't alone. 

For a moment, Papyrus thought Paps and the other Sans had returned, but the AIR wasn't the same around them, and the difference was very obvious once Papyrus got a second look.

The Sans before him reminded him strongly of Swap's Sans, but the posture, expression, and the armor was all wrong.  This Sans had a taller posture, his armor was more professional and well-worn, and he wasn't as fully-covered as Swap's Sans.  He also had a crack over his left eye socket and sharpened teeth, solid electric blue eyelights glowering around the room before they settled on Papyrus, the eyelights constricting slightly.

"...well," he said, his voice slightly more grating than Papyrus's Sans, "looks like it was a success after all."  He turned to the machine, kicking it and making it spark slightly.  "THIS, on the other hand..."  He turned behind him, hands on his iliac crests.  "Are you CERTAIN you put in the coordinates correctly?"

Papyrus looked over and saw another Papyrus, this one reminding him very much of Paps, but still very different.  This one was hunched over slightly, wearing a fur-lined coat over an orange sweater and torn black denim pants, a large crack over his maxilla and a sharp gold tooth right under the crack.  His frame was much broader than Papyrus's own, much like Paps's had been, indicating that this Papyrus might have a Guard background as well.

The other Papyrus lowered his head almost contritely.  "I am certain of it," he replied.  "I would not have risked your life otherwise."  This seemed to pacify the other Sans, who turned to the machine and kicked it again.

"Then it must be shitty work courtesy of THIS universe's Sans," he grumbled before turning back to Papyrus and giving him a once-over and not looking incredibly impressed.  "Where is your Sans?" he demanded. 

Papyrus flicked his eyelights between the two before glancing up the stairs.  "...I don't know," he replied.  "I thought he was down here, but..."  He wrung his hands together.  "...is there something wrong with the machine?"

"Other than the fact that it takes outgoing but not incoming universal jumps?  Shitty craftsmanship and poor coding."  He gave Papyrus a surprisingly sharp look.  "One would think you'd have more pride in your work."

"...my work?" Papyrus asked, confused.  "...no, this is Sans's creation...I had nothing to do with it.  I didn't even know he was working on it until he had it up and running."  That Sans seemed surprised by that information, but the surprise melted into something resembling irritation before he turned to his own Papyrus and began speaking in hushed tones that Papyrus couldn't hear.

It was...unsettling.  Sans wasn't here, and Papyrus was alone with two other universal dopplegangers that he hadn't known a code for, let alone their overall disposition.  He figured he had best be on his guard, but not antagonistic.  "...erm...do you...want to come upstairs?" he asked, getting their attention.  "...we have food and drink...and it's better than waiting down here for Sans to come home."

This Sans gave Papyrus another once-over as though figuring out if it was a trick before giving Papyrus a jerky nod.  "No tricks, or else," he muttered, and Papyrus nodded, leading the two upstairs and into the kitchen. 

"What can I get for you?" he asked kindly.

"The strongest liquor you have for me, and milk for him," that Sans replied, jerking his head to his own Papyrus, who had yet to say anything without prompting.  Papyrus nodded and fished out a bottle of whiskey and some milk, bringing it over to his guests.  That Sans kicked back on the couch, grabbing his Papyrus's arm and jerking him to sit down next to him.  The other Papyrus didn't seem bothered by the rough treatment, and took the milk offered to him, sipping it quietly.

This Sans, on the other hand, grabbed the bottle and swigged back a mouthful.  "Not bad," he said.  "How long until your Sans returns?"

Papyrus sat back on a chair, wringing his hands quietly.  "...I don't know," he admitted.  "I didn't even know he had left.  I...thought he was down there when..."  His hands clenched together tightly.  "...but he's alright...he's probably just out at Grillby's..."  He sounded more like he was convincing himself rather than his guests, and prayed that if he stepped back down to the basement he wouldn't find a pile of dust--

His brief panic was quelled when Sans walked through the door carrying a bag of food from Grillby's.  "Hey, Paps, I couldn't get to the store so I picked up dinner," he said, walking right past the other two on the couch and into the kitchen.  Five seconds later, he walked back in, staring at the other Sans and Papyrus.  "....okay, when and how?"

"A half-hour ago, and they came HERE from THEIR dimension," Papyrus replied.  "Our machine...couldn't really take it."

"...what do you mean, 'our machine couldn't really take it'?"

"...it's no longer working."

"WHAT!?"  Sans bolted down to the basement and Papyrus heard a loud explicative seconds later.  Sans ran back up, looking visibly stressed.  "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?"

"Us?" the other Sans asked, putting an almost dramatically-offronted hand on his chest plate.  "WE didn't do ANYTHING, save for make a trip here."  He crossed his arms.  "It's not our fault that YOUR machine is poorly crafted and improperly coded for incoming visitations."  His eyelights flickered to Papyrus.  "Perhaps if you had enlisted the help of someone familiar with engineering, your piece of junk wouldn't have failed."

Sans frowned, looking at Papyrus.  "...what are you TALKING about?" he demanded of his doppleganger.  "Papyrus isn't an engineer!  He's not a scientist of any sort!  Why would you...?"  He trailed off, glancing at the other Papyrus, who remained demurely quiet the entire time.  "...YOUR Papyrus in an engineer?"

The other Sans burst into sharp, amused laughter, running a hand over his face.  "Oh, this is FANTASTIC!" he chortled.  "Of ALL the universes to come out of, it HAD to be the one where a Papyrus doesn't amount to ANYTHING!"  He fixed Sans with a sharp grin, his eyelights quivering almost madly.  "Let me guess.  He's not in the Royal Guard either.  He's not a King, or a demigod, or ANYTHING."  He reclined back on the couch.  "GODS, do I feel sorry for him!"

Papyrus's hands shook almost violently, feeling every word stab into his soul.  The other Sans seemed to notice, his eyelights dimming slightly.

"Oh, it's not a slight against YOU," he said, sitting upright again.  "It's not your fault that your brother didn't allow you to amount to anything."  He reached over, tucking his hand under his own Papyrus's mandible, rubbing the bone lightly.  "It's not every universe where a Papyrus can be both Captain of the Royal Guard AND the crown jewel of the engineering department."  His smile went almost sinister, but in a pitying way.  "I'm positive your big brother never even gave you anything...ELSE to aspire to."

Sans and Papyrus watched, almost chillingly horrified, as the other Sans pinned them with an eyelight as he leaned over and dragged his tongue over his brother's cheekbone.

Papyrus was no fool. He knew the implications of what he was seeing, but to see it right in front of him and done by another version of his own brother...!

The other Sans leaned back before standing up, walking over to Sans, who looked completely stricken by the display. “You're going to need help if we want your piece of shit machine working,” he said smoothly. “And I have no idea how long it's going to take. It's in your best interest to work with us on this.” He lifted a hand, using a finger to close Sans's slack jaw. “And don't get any ideas. Papyrus isn't the only one working double fields, so keep your magic to yourself.”

He snapped his fingers and his brother rose from the couch and walked over. “If you can be a grown-up about this and HELP us repair the machine, we'll be out of your bones all the faster. Show me the schematics and let's get started.”

Sans's hands clenched tightly, his left eyelight flickering with the desire to USE it—but he conceded, stalking back down in the basement with the other two in tow, leaving Papyrus sitting frozen in the chair trying to process everything.

* * *

 

Papyrus was certainly not sleeping that night; his mind was much too full to even contemplate delving into dreams, and the machine was broken so he couldn't even contact Paps just to TALK to someone. Instead, while the other three were in the basement, he retreated to his closet and tugged the jacket on, holding himself tightly until he felt calm enough to think clearly.

It took a good long while and by that time it was far too early in the morning to do anything else than take a walk to clear his mind, as he had intended to do before all of this happened. He crept out of his room, listening out for anything and when he found none, he slipped out of the house and took in the sight of the sky moments before sunrise.

A soft sigh made him jump, turning to see the other Papyrus leaning against the wide of the house, looking at the sky as well with a wistful expression, golden-orange eyelights sparkling with life that Papyrus hadn't noticed before. Still, Papyrus was nervous and uncomfortable, but not wanting to be rude and just walk away without SAYING anything. “...um...how... are you?” he asked delicately. 

The other Papyrus's eyelights flickered to him, giving him a soft smile. “...the sky is wonderful,” he finally said. “...I came out here for a cigarette an hour ago, but...the stars were shining. I had to watch.” His voice was a deeper pitch than Papyrus's, soft from disuse, but with a harder edge to it that Papyrus could remember from the Fell universe, like when this Papyrus DID speak, it was with volume. Despite the harshness of the voice, it held a tenderness to it that Papyrus couldn't help but relax slightly to.

“...I was...going for a walk,” Papyrus said quietly. “...you're...free to join me...if you wish.”

The other shook his head. “I can't,” he replied simply. Papyrus frowned.

“Why not?”

“M'Lord commanded I don't leave the property. So I can't.”

“...Lord...Lord who?”

The other smiled fondly. “...m'Lord...Sans,” he said quietly. “I was told to not leave the property, and so I can't.” He paused, then fished out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, turning his eyelights back to the sky.

Papyrus shifted his weight slightly, looking between the other Papyrus, the sky, and the sidewalk before curiosity overrode everything else and had him walking over to the other. “...the backyard has a bench you can sit on,” he said. “And the sun rises back there too.” The other gave him a nod and a grateful smile, and the two walked around the side of the house to the back, the two of them sitting down on the bench and looking at the sky.

It was silent for a good long while before Papyrus spoke again. “...why...do you call your Sans 'Lord'?” he asked. “And....and why did he...?” His hands clenched into his pant legs slightly. “What was that...?”

The other Papyrus leaned back, smoke sifting through his teeth, his eyelights never leaving the sky. “....not everyone back home gets it either,” he replied quietly. “...they don't...understand us.” His voice dropped, sounding haunted. “...what happened to us.”

“...what DID happen?” Papyrus asked. There was more silence before the other spoke again.

“...where we come from...people hurt you,” he said lowly. “...you can't trust much of anyone...they'll stab you in the back...use you for their own selfish reasons...and leave you with nothing left to give.” His eyelights flickered. “...m'Lord and I...we only had each other. And together...we both decided that we would find comfort in one another. And it became clear very early on...that it would not stay innocent.”

His hands clenched slightly. “...I used to be Captain of the Royal Guard. And I hated it. Every day...I would face the decision of whether or not to dust myself. Only m'Lord kept me going...kept me working...I would keep going...for him.” His smile twitched. “We understood each other...like no one else EVER would. And...I gave myself to him....ALL of myself. He takes...such good care of me...”

His voice hitched, his eye sockets growing damp. “...they don't understand...! I LIKE what he does to me! I LOVE being his! With him...I only have to please HIM, NO ONE else! Not Asgore, not Toriel, not the Guard, not the entire goddamn Underground, just HIM!” His hands pressed against his chest, his soul glowing through his shirt.

“...I am a broken Monster who should have fallen down and dusted long ago. But by m'Lord's command, I am alive. I live only for him...and he, only for me.” His bones rattled with a guttural purr. “He loves me more than anything else. He gets me whatever I want. He's killed so many who even LOOKED at me wrong...and I'm safe. I'm happy. I'm HOME.”

He spoke with such pure love and conviction, and Papyrus could FEEL the warmth and love radiating from his other self's soul. He quietly lowered his gaze, honing in on the soul and discretely looking it over.

He had never seen such a damaged soul in his LIFE. It was literally held together by electric blue sutures and reeked of trauma stains that he knew deep down would never fade for as long as he lived. It nearly broke his own soul to see that, wondering what on earth had happened to cause THIS much damage.

Whatever the case was...it was clear to Papyrus that his other self would be dust, if it were not for those blue sutures, the other Sans's love, keeping that soul together.

Without realizing what he was doing, he reached over and put his hand on his other self's chest, his eye sockets brimming with tears. He wiped at his face, covering it with his free hand as he reined his emotions back in. “...I'm...so sorry....” he stammered, his voice hitching. “I'm so...so SORRY...!” He choked on his tears until he felt a hand on the back of his skull, petting lightly in a way that felt too calming and comforting to keep crying, slowly settling down.

His other self gave him a smile. “I live with it just fine,” he said, continuing his petting of Papyrus's skull. “M'Lord makes it bearable, makes it better...in a way that works for US.” He leaned over, pressing his skull against Papyrus's. “You are kind for listening to me...please, do not judge m'Lord too harshly. I beg for what he does, and he always...ALWAYS puts me before him.” He smiled softly. “...and...he meant what he said...that he didn't blame you. He...does not always have much in the way of tact, but he was not happy to see you with wasted potential. He never liked seeing my wasted potential...”

Papyrus blushed softly, sighing tiredly. “...he's...damaged too, isn't he?” he asked. “...and you help him like he helps you.” His other self nodded. “...And you are both...happy and safe with each other.” Another nod. “...then...I am glad you're okay.”

The other Papyrus beamed. “Thank you,” he said, patting Papyrus's skull again. “Your Sans is so very lucky to have such a kind, understanding brother.” He leaned back, staring up at the sunset, the color matching his eyelights exactly. “...I must get back inside,” he said, his voice taking on a lighter, more infantile tilt. “M'Lord needs his coffee.” He stood and walked back inside, looking like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Contrarywise, Papyrus remained sitting on the bench, bathed in the sunlight, and feeling as though more had been piled onto his own shoulders.

And he needed a cigarette.

* * *

 

The tension between the two Sanses was palpable, and Papyrus could see literal sparks between them whenever he was in the same room as them. Despite progress being made in repairing the machine—that universe's Papyrus often went down to quietly put his expertise to use—Papyrus almost expected the two to throw down at any moment.

It made the house almost unbearable to be in, and Papyrus often stayed out of it, taking longer walks through the neighborhood, sitting by himself at the park, and just thinking about what this universe entailed.

It seemed to be much like Fell, but there was more to it than that. This Sans and Papyrus had more love and trust in one another, much like Swap's had. And Paps had mentioned that a traumatic experience had set his brother's mental facilities back several years, something that Papyrus guessed had caused this new Papyrus's soul to be nearly shattered.

Papyrus trusted that his other self knew what it was he had with his Sans. He was not a fool, and neither were any of the other Papyruses he'd seen. If his other self said that this made him happy...then who was he to judge?

He made his way home after several hours out and about, not wanting to skirt around the issue any longer. His hand was on the doorknob when there was a loud crash and a massive rush of killer intent, making him dash through the door quickly to stop any confrontation.

The two Sanses were facing off on opposite sides of the room, the whole room fulled with enough negativity to choke someone. Back against the wall was the other Papyrus, who had marrow dripping from his head and was looking cowed in the face of the wrath of two Sanses. “WHAT in the world is going on here!?” Papyrus demanded, hurrying to step between them, only to be yanked back behind his brother.

“Get the hell away from him, Paps!” Sans growled, his left eyelight blazing at his doppleganger. “I never should've trusted that creature to be anywhere NEAR you, OR his own brother!”

“Put your magic away, you imbecile!” the other Sans snapped. “You have no idea what you're talking about—“

“I JUST SAW YOU BASH YOUR BROTHER'S SKULL!” Sans shouted, his magic quivering with rage. “YOU'RE A BEAST WHO SHOULD NEVER BE ALLOWED NEAR HIM!”

“SANS, STOP!” Papyrus cried, jumping in front of his brother with his arms splayed out, hoping that loosing eye contact with the other Sans would help calm him down. “Sans, you don't know about their universe! We can't judge them for something WE don't know anything about!”

“THERE IS NO REASON FOR HIM TO LAY A HAND ON HIS BROTHER—“

“That YOU know of!” Papyrus cut in. “Sans...did you ever stop to ask his brother if he was even okay, or did you just attack the other Sans right off the bat?” The pause in his brother's expression told him the answer to that question. “I'm not saying I'm AGREEABLE, I'm saying that I can't DISAGREE because I DON'T KNOW HOW IT WORKS FOR THEM. Please, Sans, calm down, alright? Okay, brother?” He gently patted at Sans's shoulders until the flickering of magic died down slightly.

Behind him, he heard the other Sans lower his guard a little. “Typical that you think YOU'RE the smart one when it's your brother who has all the sense,” he said, his voice hard. “Rather than wasting his potential here, he could make something of himself in MY universe—“

“IF YOU SO MUCH AS TOUCH HIM, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Sans roared, his magic flaring back full-force as he snatched the other Sans up by the soul, rearing his hand back for a bone attack—

—and his arm was promptly snatched by the other Papyrus, whom Papyrus literally saw appear out of NOWHERE. The other Papyrus ignored the marrow dripping over his eye socket, glowering down at Sans with a resolute nerve he hadn't shown before, his right eyelight like fire in his eye socket.

“...and that's your first mistake,” he said, his voice full of malice. “Thinking that I need m'Lord to fight my battles for me.” His hand tightened, and Sans's magic hold on the other Sans dropped. “I used to be Captain of the Royal Guard. I have a kill count higher than Undyne's, and she goes through tests subjects like tissues.” He jerked his hand up, bringing Sans off the floor and right at his eye-level. “And if you touch my brother, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

Sans said nothing, gaping at the other Papyrus in numb shock. The other Papyrus calmly handed Sans over to Papyrus before walking over to his brother and picking him up, hugging him tightly.

The other Sans sighed and hugged his brother back, petting at the skull wound. “I'm unharmed, you worrywart,” he muttered. “Stop fretting, I could have taken him.”

“...I want to go home, m'Lord...” the other Papyrus murmured. “...let me finish fixing it. It won't take but another all-nighter, and you need rest. Please.” His brother sighed.

“Fine. But you will not let that piss-poor excuse of myself tell you to do ANYTHING.” He ran his hand over his Papyrus's face. “You are smart. You can do this own your own. You don't need his instruction.” He took Papyrus's mandible in his hand roughly. “...and you have twelve hours to finish it. Understood?”

The other Papyrus nodded, pressing his teeth to his Sans's head before standing and heading into the basement, giving Sans one last fiery look before his eyelights dimmed back to subservient casualness. The other Sans dusted himself off, giving his doppleganger a withering look before stalking to the attic to brood...and nap.

Papyrus held his brother tightly, sitting them both on the couch, saying nothing and not moving until Sans's shaking had subsided.

* * *

 

There was no flowery goodbye with this departure; in fact, the only reason why Sans was down there was to make sure he had the other brothers' universe blocked entirely.

The other Sans tapped in the coding for his universe before stepping back. “You should thank my brother,” he said almost haughtily. “He managed to improve on the design, and it can now take incoming visitations.” Next to him, his Papyrus ducked his head, looking almost bashful.

Sans said nothing, his hands clenching in his jacket pockets. “...just leave,” he said. The other Sans snorted with a barely-muttered 'gladly' before stepping into the machine, pulling Papyrus in with him.

Papyrus stood back quietly, looking after the departing pair and catching eyelights with his doppleganger.

_**'Thank you.'** _

Papyrus blinked hard, having DEFINITELY heard a voice in his head, but he didn't have time to speak before the machine cranked on, and the other brothers were gone.

Sans wasted no time in blocking that universe, then he leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his face. “....I need a drink,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I need a drink, a seven-year nap, an' some ketchup...” He looked so small, so DISTURBED, and it broke Papyrus's heart to see him like that. 

Papyrus walked over and hugged Sans quietly. “...go take a nap first,” he said softly. “You've earned it, brother.” He felt Sans's arms encircle him and squeeze for a moment before letting go.

“You're right, bro,” Sans said quietly. “...just...lock up after me, 'kay?”

“Alright.” Papyrus shooed Sans upstairs, listening closely until he heard the bedroom door shut before turning back to the machine, resting his hand on it quietly. He was regretting finding this thing and having Sans include him in on these universal shenanigans. It was weighing heavily on him, like the worst blue attack that someone could imagine, to the point where it almost pained him.

He was...FEELING everything those other Papyruses were. Not from experience, but from empathy. Empathy he couldn't control, and that overtook him strongly whenever he got too close, filling a part of him he didn't know was lacking—

_ "Of ALL the universes to come out of, it HAD to be the one where a Papyrus doesn't amount to ANYTHING!"  _

He flinched at the memory, turning from the machine and brushing past the paneling, where a stack of paper fell and scattered on the floor. He sighed, gathering up the papers so he wouldn't have a mess on his conscience, and paused when he found it to be schematics for the machine. He absently glanced it over...and then again. And again. 

And...he UNDERSTOOD it. 

It was no more complex than his puzzle creations, in terms of the physical embodiment of the structure. It was run by physics, something he hadn't been able to wrap his head much around, but the actual BUILD of it...

...he was ninety-three percent certain he could take it apart and reassemble it perfectly...give or take an error of point-five.

Papyrus looked between the schematics and the machine several times before setting the papers down neatly, heading back upstairs and feeling like he could use a drink of his own.

 


	4. Meeting Underlust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlust (this version, anyway), belongs to nsfwshamecave on tumblr. If you haven't seen her comic story, you need to check it out!

 

Sans didn't seem eager to be near the machine again after the snafu of the visitors from the blocked universe (Papyrus decided that the single universe resembled both Swap and Fell equally, so he codenamed it 'Swapfell'), and took to leaving it alone, at least not on edge that it could be accessed INTO theirs since he put a blocker on it too.

Papyrus was more than fine with this, though he did feel guilty using Sans's wariness to his advantage, going down to the basement and making SURE that he wasn't wrong about what he was thinking earlier.

And he wasn't.

He really COULD comprehend the machine.

He spent many long nights in the basement, even some of his designated 'sleep days', poring over the schematics and making sure he had a solid idea before taking apart the machine and putting it back together perfectly. And when he did, he sat back and stared at it before looking at his own hands.

Paps had mentioned doing some part-time work in the labs. His Fell self still created incredibly complex puzzles that were far more dangerous than his own. The Swapfell Papyrus was an engineer; the 'crown jewel', in that Papyrus's brother's words. It made Papyrus think...and then REALIZE...

...he was like them.

He had ALWAYS had this ability...this comprehension of engineering that for HIM never went farther than his puzzles. But he was able to take apart the machine and put it back together—and even UNDERSTAND how each piece worked and functioned as a whole—and it made him....

...happy?

….sad...?

…....angry?

All three.

He could only stare at his hands, wondering what ELSE he was able to do with them, with his comprehension, and wondered if Sans knew what he was capable of. Ever since he'd gotten it into his head that he wanted to be in the Royal Guard, Sans hadn't tried to encourage anything else since. And...honestly, looking back on it, having a second opinion would have been appreciated.

Did Sans know? He must have had an inkling. After all, he DID alternate between Fluffy Bunny and Complex Puzzles at bedtime for reading, knowing how much Papyrus loved the book, and could follow it easily...

...why then, hadn't he included Papyrus in on the machine?

It was obvious that Swap Sans had some idea of it....his Fell self definitely knew, and Swapfell Papyrus BUILD the thing himself. There was a level of cooperation in the other universes that Papyrus and his brother just seemed to lack.

_"It's not your fault that your brother didn't allow you to amount to anything."_

It stung when the Swapfell Sans said it, and it was still stinging now, even more so now with the insinuation that Sans was the reason why he didn't have as much gained or known as the other Papyruses. Adding salt into that wound was the idea that the other Sans was RIGHT.

He could forgive Sans for hiding some things from him. This knowledge of alternate universes and timelines was overwhelming, and he'd only been dealing with it for a few weeks rather than YEARS. But if Sans knew what Papyrus could have been capable of, and PURPOSELY kept him from it...

...Papyrus didn't know what to feel about that. Ever since that visit with Paps, he had experienced emotions and mental conflicts the likes of which he had never felt before. Negative, ugly feelings, some secondhand but the rest...

...like he was feeling right now. ANGER. Papyrus knew he was extremely hard to anger. He preferred to understand the negativity and others and remedy it rather than to give into the feeling himself, but he could count on one hand the number of times he felt the hot, thick grip of anger in his soul. And he put down one more time he was feeling anger, and was even ANGRIER that his brother was the cause of it.

Papyrus leaned against the paneling, his phalanges absently tracing over the files on the screen. Looking through them distracted him from his own emotions, but also made him simmer in his own indignant thoughts. All these universes, all containing versions of himself that did more, achieved more, WERE more.

He flipped through several files, heaving a sigh when his amusement ran it's course and he tiredly let his fingers slide over the screen. His attention was snapped back full-force when the swipe brought up a bundle of files that didn't appear with the others, a small note attached to them.

**KEEP PAPYRUS AWAY FROM THESE UNIVERSES**

His indignant feeling came back upon reading that. It wasn't 'keep away from these universes' in general so they would both be safe, it was a bundle meant to be hidden from Papyrus, and Papyrus alone.

And what was worse, it was HIDDEN FROM HIM.

Papyrus clenched his hand, leaning his head against the side of the machine. He was tired of secrets and infantile intentions. He was sick of having to sneak around just to explore these universes—he had been sick of having to sneak down here just for Sans to open up to him in the FIRST place.

He looked over the files quietly, most of them unlabeled but one catching his eye.

**_LUST_ **

His finger twitched. Lust...what would a universe be like that had the title of 'Lust'? And why would Sans try to keep it from him?

The niggling urge go and find out overcame him, clashing painfully with the annoying voice that told him 'SANS SAID STAY AWAY', but the fact that he found the latter ANNOYING at all cinched it for him. He was going to go, and he was going to prove to Sans that he didn't need to be BABIED.

He typed in the coding and started up the machine, flexing his hands tightly before stepping through.

As he expected, he came out in Snowdin, but unexpected was the...ATMOSPHERE. Just one smell of the air made him feel....weird. It was a sweetish, heavy musk smell that made his nasal cavity itch and put him on edge; he put his guard up in case of anything unsavory coming his way and stepped out into the snow.

It didn't LOOK different, nor did it have the sense of impending dread that Fell had. It was more of anticipation for something, but not something BAD, per se. Still, if he was on edge, it had to be for a REASON. He peered around some trees, searching out the lights of Snowdin and was slightly surprised to see that the distant lights seemed much brighter and neon than normal, the smell in the air getting stronger and almost seeping into his bones...

A sharp intake of breath almost made him jump as he whipped around in surprise and saw—

Sans.

It was definitely Sans. Even if THIS Sans was wearing a sleeveless purple coat lined with poncy blue fur, a shirt that was so cut off he was showing half his ribs and all of his spine and pants made of a shiny leather that were hanging VERY low on his pelvis—

He was aware that he was staring for longer than was considered polite even by shock standards, and he quickly looked away for a moment before looking back, seeing this Sans gaping like a Gyftrot caught in the lights. Sans broke eye contact to look around quickly before hurrying up, keeping his voice low.

“What are you DOING here?!” he demanded, sounding more worried than angry. “What universe did you come from!?”

Papyrus didn't really have an answer for that question, and he could only dumbly shrug while trying to keep himself from staring again. Sans looked around again before grabbing Papyrus's arm. “Come on,” he said, “you can't be seen out here.” Papyrus barely had time to brace himself before Sans teleported them both elsewhere.

He groaned, holding his head. He really detested teleportation, he thought as he looked around the house, feeling his cheekbones warm when he saw posters and paraphernalia of the pornographic variety, quickly averting his eyes. Sans stepped away from him, looking him over.

“Why are you here?” he asked, sounding much calmer this time. “And where is your Sans?”

Papyrus frowned, his embarrassment forgotten. “...he's not here,” he replied. “And he doesn't know I'm here. I came on my own.”

“...okay, WHY?” this Sans asked.

“...I was curious.”

“Curious.” Sans rolled his—purple, Papyrus noticed—eyelights. “Do you even know dangerous it is for Monsters like you out here? Seriously, you're a walking piece of meat for most Monsters!” Pause. “...Ironic pun intended.”

Papyrus groaned, rubbing his head. He was starting to get a migraine, and the scent in this Snowdin wasn't helping. “If you're familiar with universes, I've been to Fell, and what I call 'Swapfell' decided to drop by MY universe,” he replied. “I doubt THIS universe is more dangerous.”

Sans frowned. “...maybe not in the way you think,” he replied quietly. “It's dangerous enough for ANYONE here who can't adapt.” He looked out the window, sighing. “Right before a Royal Harem visit too...”

“A Royal WHAT—“

“Brother! Is the Royal Harem here? I heard you say—“

Papyrus turned to the stairs, seeing another version of himself, and feeling the heat in his cheekbones return with a vengeance. This universe's version of himself had a risque mix of black leather pants, a matching black jacket with the front cut off to show everything from ribs to sternum, and what could only be described as a tight pink corset around his front to cover his spine but curved to still show off the rib cage.

And the SCENT he was giving off—it was comparable to roses and sugar, almost too sweet to handle and it wasn't even TRYING to be contained; like this Papyrus was purposely flaunting it. Papyrus kept his eyelights to himself as his other self looked between him and his brother. “...Sans, what's going on?”

“Er...universal shenanigans,” Sans replied. The look on his brother's face conveyed 'don't know, don't want to know' as the other Papyrus turned his attention back to his doppleganger.

“...So you are me,” he said, walking up and smiling politely. “Then I suppose we need no introduction!” He turned to Sans. “You said something about the Royal Harem—“

“I was just tellin' him what's coming,” Sans said quickly. “They're not here yet.”

The other Papyrus looked slightly put out. “Oh,” he said soberly. “...mind if I have the TV for now? Mettaton is on in a bit.”

“Sure bro, go ahead,” Sans said, glancing at the door. “I need to go take care of some errands...can you keep yourself company?”

“You're terrible, Sans,” the other Papyrus muttered, grabbing the remote. “Of course I'll be a good host.”

“...just don't play with yourself,” Sans said, paying Papyrus's sputtering no mind as he left the house. Papyrus tried to quell down his no-doubt orange cheekbones, awkwardly standing in place before finally deciding to sit on the other side of the couch as his other self turned the TV on.

“...you have Mettaton here?” he asked delicately, and was surprised when his other self blushed pink.

“...we do,” his other self—'Lust', Papyrus's mind provided as a way to file it away for later—replied. “We.....well, I wouldn't say we're DATING, per se, but...”

“YOU are dating METTATON!?” Papyrus gushed. Lust blushed pinker.

“Oh, it's...it's nothing OFFICIAL!” he stammered. “We've just been on a few dates, and we video-chat from time to time...” He trailed off, his soul glowing through his rib cage, and Papyrus absently noticed that the sugary rose scent had ebbed back into something much more tolerable. “...it's wonderful.”

Papyrus smiled; his own crush on his own Mettaton aside, it was sweet seeing something like this. “...you really like him?”

Lust nodded. “I do,” he said. “...and I think he really likes ME too.” He turned on the TV, switching it to the MTTV channel and sat forward to watch.

Papyrus was...surprised, to say the least, with this Mettaton. Less curves, a simpler design, and a studio audience attendance that seemed non-existent...it was...odd. But Papyrus watched in silence through the program, feeling...uncomfortable.

Calls came in, Monsters demanding lewd and horrible requests of the mech, who seemed to fight to keep it together on his own show. Papyrus chanced a glance at Lust, seeing a brighter glow in his right eye socket and hands clenching slightly into his pant legs. Finally, the program was over, and Papyrus breathed easier.

“...what WAS that?” he asked, staring at the TV. “Why....why would anyone DO something like that to Mettaton? SAY things like that? Have they no DECENCY!?”

Lust's teeth ground for a moment before he sighed, his eyelight dimming down. “...it's normal,” he replied, his voice slightly hollow. “Mettaton is...an odd duck of Monsters. But I adore him as he is.” He smiled, his voice fond. “We have plenty of fun without sex.”

Papyrus blushed hard, his hands wringing. “...is...that what everyone does around here?” he asked delicately. Lust nodded.

“Of course,” he replied. “It's an expressive culmination of our soul's magic. And the most sexually gifted Monsters be a part of the Royal Harem!”

Papyrus wrung his hand tighter. “...what's...the difference?” he asked, surprised when Lust's eyelights brightened.

“Oh, it's amazing!” he exclaimed. “The Royal Harem caters to the strongest, wealthiest Monsters, and they are paid by the Monarchy to have sex, rather than seeking it out yourself. The best culmination of magic available is in the Harem, and they're loved and respected by EVERYONE in the Underground!” He let out a wistful sigh. “Mistress Undyne has taken me under her wing for awhile, and this might be the scouting year I'll FINALLY be drafted into the Harem!”

This...was starting to become uncomfortably familiar.

“We've had plenty of training, mostly in the art of clothing crafting!” He jumped off of the couch, grabbing Papyrus's hand and hurrying upstairs to his room—and GODS, Papyrus tried to not look at the toys in the corner—and opened his closet, showing off a large array of clothing, from knitted shirts to hand-crafted jackets. “She says I'm quite talented. And a scene is only as good as the props that makes it!” He took out a pink turtleneck sweater, holding it in his hands, smiling fondly.

“...I made this one myself,” he said. “My first finished project. Undyne was so proud of me, she promised to put in a good word with the Queen...” His smiled wavered a little, his eye sockets slightly damp as he brought the sweater to his chest, holding it tightly. “...it...it would just be a dream beyond dreams to be in the Guard....power...prestige...popularity.....I just....really want it...”

Papyrus felt a twisting in his soul, and felt slightly nauseous. “I'm....I...it sounds like a nice dream,” he said finally, giving Lust a smile. “...and your sweater is very nice. I have yet to see better craftsmanship of a sweater!”

Lust beamed at him. “Really!?”

“Really.”

“That's GREAT! You can tell Undyne when she comes by for our training!”

“Wait what?”

* * *

 

Meeting this universe's Undyne was something Papyrus was going to be attempting to forget for a long time. He had seen Undyne at the beach in a two-piece swimsuit, and THIS Undyne was wearing LESS than that. In SNOWDIN.

At least she seemed as easy to converse with as his Undyne; she wasn't all that surprised to see him (“Alphys always has weird crap like that goin' on,” she said), and was more than happy to include him in the 'training'. Lust could knit like a master, and a sweater he was knitting was already taking shape when Papyrus was just finished cutting a pattern for a jacket.

“Wow, your Undyne must've taught you pretty well!” this Undyne—Mistress, Papyrus decided to name her—said as she looked over his pattern. “Your pattern is so symmetrical and perfect!”

Papyrus knew she was being encouraging, but he couldn't help but feel...like he was being talked down to like a child. He quietly kept to his work. “...my Undyne had me take cooking lessons,” he replied, not elaborating further but immediately feeling a little flicker of discomfort coming from her.

“Ooh, that sounds interesting!” Lust exclaimed, putting his knitting down. “And it reminded me that I haven't gotten us any refreshments! I'll be right back!” He hopped up, hurrying downstairs and leaving Papyrus and Mistress alone.

Papyrus clenched his hands slightly before looking up at Mistress, who was pointedly focusing on her own—somewhat bad—sewing. “...this isn't really training, is it?” he asked quietly, and saw her hands clench around her crafting outfit. She was silent for a few moments before looking up, her expression guilty but unapologetic.

“...you don't get it,” she said quietly. Papyrus scowled, his eyelights flashing.

“ _I_ don't get it?” he hissed. “I AM him. And my Undyne DID give me cooking lessons, for MONTHS, after I kept trying to get into the Royal Guard. And I never got in.” He let out a heavy, tired sigh. “...you're never going to let him in, are you?”

Mistress clenched her teeth, closing her eye before setting everything down. “...listen...” she said, leaning back against the wall. “...the Royal Harem isn't just about the glory and the pleasure. It's a JOB, and sometimes...depending on the client...it can be unpleasant. And trust me, some up the uppercrust clients are VERY unpleasant. And when it's over, it's over. Nothing. Nada. You go on to the next job.” She rested her head back against the wall.

“Papyrus...he's talented. GIFTED, even, in sexual magic. He can do things other Monsters CAN'T do, and he'd be AMAZING for the Harem...but...” She glanced across the room, focusing on a small framed selfie of Papyrus and Mettaton. “...he has a gentle soul...he becomes attached to his clients after work, and ends up getting heartbroken when it's unreciprocated. Honestly, his time spent with Mettaton is the...healthiest I've seen him in a long time...” She sighed. “...he doesn't belong anywhere near the Royal Harem.”

Papyrus's hands clenched tightly, feeling a comparative pang in his soul. “...then why not just TELL him?” he demanded softly. “Why....why get his hopes up, until he realizes what's going on and just feels as useless and worthless as everyone always THOUGHT he was?” He flinched at his own words, staring down at his hands that were clenched so tightly his bones were grating together.

“N...nothing...is worth the pain he'll feel...when he realizes what you've done...”

Mistress stared guiltily down at her craft project, rubbing her hand over it quietly. “...is that...what your Undyne did?” she asked softly. “...because...if her reasons are anything like mine...it's because I DON'T want him to be hurt...and that I feel, deep down in my soul...that he deserves better.” She reached up, rubbing at her eye which was looking mistier than before. “...please...don't tell him...”

Papyrus sighed, forcing his hands to relax. “...I won't,” he replied. “...but you're not doing him any favors babying him like this. It should be you...it should be HIS Sans...that tells him.” He stood up, pausing and reaching down to pick up his jacket pattern as an afterthought. “...and if you see him happier and healthier with Mettaton...encourage THAT. Encourage this clothes-making thing. But don't let him drag a dead dream by a rope until he hangs himself with it.”

He headed to the door, stopping when Lust came back in with colorful drinks balanced on a tray. “Oh, are you leaving?” Lust asked. Papyrus nodded, giving his counterpart a smile.

“Yes, it's time I head home before my Sans begins to worry,” he said, holding up his pattern. “Mind if I take this with me?”

“Oh, not at all!” Lust set the tray down on his desk. “I hope you come back and show the finished product to me when you're done with it!”

“...I'll...see if I can,” Papyrus replied delicately. “Thank you for your hospitality....and...thank you, Undyne, for including me in your...training.” Undyne gave him a showy grin which faded once Lust turned his back on them to fetch the drinks, and Papyrus took his leave, walking quietly down the stairs and passing this Sans on the couch, who looked up when he came into view.

“...where are you going?” this Sans asked, sitting up.

“I have to go home now,” Papyrus replied. Sans jumped up, walking over.

“I'll give you a shortcut back where I found you,” he said, glancing to the door. “It's...still not safe out there for you.”

Papyrus conceded, nodding as this Sans took his arm and the two of them shortcutted back into the forest. Papyrus took a moment to regain his bearings before standing up straight. “Thank you,” he said genially, glancing around to see where he was before spotting his way back to the veil.

“No prob,” this Sans replied. “But...it's...probably best if you don't come back here...y'know...” He slipped his hands into his vest pockets. “...y'know how it is.”

Papyrus nodded. “I do,” he said, holding the jacket pattern in his hands tightly. “...Sans...will you...please do me a favor?”

Sans snorted. “So tempted to make a dirty joke, but I get it, wrong universe. Go ahead, Paps, shoot.” Papyrus was silent for a moment before sighing.

“....if you see....your brother struggling with something that isn't healthy for him...don't let him wallow in it until it's too late to pull him back.” His shoulders slumped almost defeatedly. “...failure hurts...and rejection hurts....but false hope and betrayal, no matter how small, hurts more.” He gave Sans a short, pleading look. “...don't let him get hurt like that.”

He turned from this Sans, heading back to the veil without hearing an answer.

* * *

 

_Knock-knock._

“Hey, Paps, you alright? You've been locked in here for awhile now.”

“I'm alright, I'm just working on something!”

“...well, alright then. I'm runnin' out for food, you got any requests for dinner?”

“...anything is fine with me.”

Pause.

“...I'll pick you up some soup and a milkshake from Grillby's then.”

“That's fine, Sans.”

“...okay then. Later.”

Papyrus listened to his brother's footfalls fade from his door, not taking his eyes off of the faux leather he was making into a jacket from the pattern he took from Lust. He had to admit, he thought to himself, Mistress's insistence on using a chisel-tip needle was spot-on. He actually learned something.

….several somethings.

...a lot.

…..

…..

…..

…......he hoped that tears didn't stain faux leather, or this project was ruined....

 


	5. Meeting Horrortale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version of Horrortale belongs to SourAppleStudios. They have more 'canon' coming in with this AU in the future, but these are mostly my headcanons so far.

I swear to Asgore, I did not mean for it to be this long.  But there was a lot to stuff into this chapter, and I hope the wait was worth it!

* * *

 

 

Papyrus was certain he was being antisocial now, but he couldn't find the nerve or the will to leave his house much anymore.  He barely called or texted Undyne as he used to--several times a day, even--and he had enough existential second-hand views to know why.

He was angry with her.

He was ANGRY that she had lied to him, infantilized him, and crushed his dreams without even having the grace to turn him down to his face.  He honestly thought they had enough mutual respect to give him that, but apparently...he had been wrong.  Even though Undyne seemed to genuinely be trying to help--his Undyne and Mistress too--the crashing realization that he had been a JOKE among everyone in the know.

And who all DID know?  He didn't know.  He didn't WANT to know.

Because the only one who DID matter that knew was SANS. 

Looking back on his life, looking back at Lust's life, he couldn't believe just how...SIMPLE he had been.  How SIMPLE he must've seemed to others.  It was humiliating, looking back on it...remembering his behavior and thoughts and the way people would act toward him--like he was a simpleton child who needed to be coddled and babied with kid gloves and condescension.

But most of all, he couldn't believe that Sans was a part of that.

He had always thought of his older brother as his source of comfort and encouragement, as someone who always believed in him, no matter what.  But from what he saw...from what he FELT....

...it felt so FAKE now.

Every bit of encouragement from Sans only echoed through his memories like the encouragement someone would give a toddler or a pet, nothing he could take seriously with the lingering hint of 'poor thing' ringing in the background.  Of the forced smiles, the gossip behind his back...

....gods, what if....even NOW, what if everyone still THOUGHT that?

What if SANS still thought that?

That he was some ignorant, unintelligent little baby bones, one that was unable to take care of himself, or do ANYTHING without his help?

The idea only made him angrier. 

He didn't VOICE his anger, though.  Even in the past, his displays of anger were never taken seriously, even if he wasn't THAT angry.  But now, he was LIVID, and he wasn't sure WHAT he would do if he wasn't taken seriously about THIS.  This was his LIFE.  The way people--EVERYONE--thought of him.  It was reason enough to be angry, but to have that anger downplayed as a JOKE...

He kept to himself a lot now.  He didn't know how to really PROCESS this, how to properly DISPLAY this kind of anger, and right now giving people who hurt him--best intentions meant or not--the silent treatment seemed to be keeping the peace.

But of course, Sans knew when he was off-kilter in emotions.

Papyrus supposed he could give Sans credit for allowing him THIS much time to be by himself, but it still wasn't enough since Papyrus didn't really know how to bring it up, let alone what to SAY on the matter.  How would that even go?  'Gee, Sans, it would have been nice to have my big brother not exacerbate my dreams when it was obvious I didn't stand a chance and wowie, a REAL second opinion on my choice of career would have been great before I hit adulthood!'.

Yes.  Perfect.

REALLY not the way he wanted it to go, though. 

But he had nothing else thought up when Sans knocked on his bedroom door later that week.  "Hey, Paps," Sans said, his voice teetering on worry.  "...Can I come in?"

Papyrus sighed.  "...sure," he said, knowing that 'no' or 'go away' would only be met with a barrage of stupid puns until he opened the door himself to make it stop.  Sans had weaponized that strategy before, and Papyrus was loathe to repeat it.  Sans walked into his room, and Papyrus didn't even have to look up to know that Sans was staring at the mess of parts taken from several miscellaneous electrical objects that Papyrus had taken apart to put back together.  It was a coping mechanism he'd developed once he discovered he had a knack for engineering, and taking things apart to put them back together was an analogy-driven calming method for him.

"...heh...kind of a mess you've made," Sans said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his skull.  "...whatever did th' clock do to ya?"

"The ticking was too loud," Papyrus replied, only half-smartassing back.  Really, though, the ticking of clocks irked him for some reason. 

"Well, it's not tickin' at ALL now that you've broken it."

Papyrus's jaw tightened.  "It's not broken," he replied, his voice coming out more testy than he'd intended.  "I've already disassembled and reassembled it four times and it's run better each time I've done it."  He picked up a small screwdriver to fit a piece in, biting back the urge to say 'much like the machine in the basement' at the last moment.

Sans shifted his weight from one foot to the other, silent for a few moments.  "...alright, I'll bite.  Why?"

"Because I want to."

"...why do ya WANT to?"

Papyrus put the screwdriver down for a moment to quickly fit in several gears.  "Because I DO, Sans," he said. 

"Paps--"

"Because I LIKE taking something apart, looking at it from every angle, and putting it back!" Papyrus snapped.  "Because I LIKE seeing how something functions with intricate parts, every tiny piece integral to the function of the whole, and if there's a kink in the system, why it's there, and how to fix it!"  He put the backing on the clock and screwed it into place, the clock ticking softly in his hand.  "Because it's something I can DO, and not something someone TELLS me I can do."

Sans stared at Papyrus, his eyelights flickering.  "...what are you TALKIN' about, Papyrus?" he asked, his voice laced with worry and bewilderment.  "Who's tellin' ya stuff you can't do?"  Papyrus clenched his hands around the clock tightly, his teeth grinding for a moment before he stood up and set the clock down on his bedside table.

"...it isn't what people have been telling me I CAN'T do," he replied softly, his voice hard.  "It's what people have been telling me I CAN do, and not believing a damn word of it!"

Sans flinched back, feeling a sting from the fact that his little brother swore.  "...Paps..."  He jumped when Papyrus smacked his hand on the table, jostling the newly-assembled clock.

 "How LONG did you think it was necessary to keep me ignorant of the fact that the Royal Guard didn't WANT me?" he demanded, his anger coming to a head with no way to stop it.  "How LONG did you think it would take for me to realize that you've been telling me LIES, and encouraging dead dreams!?  How LONG, Sans!?"

Sans's jaw twitched, not coming up with anything to the sudden onslaught of questions.  His eyelights quivered as he took a tentative step forward.  "...Paps...who...why would you think that?  I--"

"Do.  NOT.  Lie to me." Papyrus growled, punctuating each word with a sharp point in Sans's direction.  "NOT about this, Sans.  Why?  WHY did you DO that to me!?"  His hand trembled violently in the air.  "WHY did you let me make a fool of myself?  WHY?  WHY!?"

"Papyrus, I didn't MEAN for you to ever feel that way!" Sans exclaimed.  "You're my little brother, of COURSE I'll support any dream you have--"

"SUPPORT MY DREAM, DON'T LIE TO ME AND COLLABORATE WITH UNDYNE ON HOW TO TRICK ME INTO THINKING I HAD A CHANCE!" Papyrus shouted, stomping around his room and gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke.  "You BOTH kept treating me like a stupid little child, but it was YOU who hurt me the most out of this!"  He turned to Sans, his right eyelight flickering.

"...Sans...answer me completely and honestly," he continued, his voice lowering again.  "...did you know how good I was at engineering?"

Sans said nothing.

"Did you know I could understand the make and function of your machine?"

Nothing.

"...did you purposely keep me ignorant this whole time?"

Nothing.

Papyrus felt his soul drop hard.  "...Sans..."

"Papyrus, please..." Sans said, his voice shaking hard.  "...I...I didn't do it to HURT you, I SWEAR--!"  He yelped when Papyrus stalked past him, almost shoving him out of the doorway.  "PAPYRUS--!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE, SANS!" Papyrus shouted, heading downstairs, Sans hot on his heels.  He froze in cold anger when Sans grabbed his arm.

"DAMMIT, PAPYRUS, STOP!"  Sans kept his hand tight around Papyrus's arm.  "LISTEN to me, for FIVE SECONDS!"  Papyrus glowered at Sans over his shoulder.

"Five seconds is HARDLY a good use of my time," he replied coldly.

Sans scowled, tightening his hold.  "Then make it a bad use, but LISTEN to me!"  He ran his free hand over his skull, sighing hard.  "...Papyrus, I am able to see glimmers into other timelines, and a good lot of them don't end well when...when I tell you certain things...when you DO certain things..."  He lowered his gaze to the stairs.  "...I just wanted to protect you, Paps....an'...maybe it wasn't the right way to do it...but to keep you safe, and to keep you happy....I'll still do it.  Over an' over again."

Papyrus's hands clenched by his sides.  "...and I am telling you now, Sans," he said lowly.  "STOP.  I don't NEED your protection, and I don't NEED your coddling!  NOTHING you did EVER came out with anything good, now did it?!" 

Sans jerked back from Papyrus, his eyelights shrinking back.  "...exCUSE me!?" he shot back, a hand over his rib cage, affronted.  "NOTHIN' I did!?  NOTHIN'!?"  He poked Papyrus's sternum hard with his finger, his eyelights blazing.  "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT WHAT I'VE DONE FOR YOU!?  I've ONLY just SACRIFICED for you, FED you, CLOTHED you, RAISED you--an' THAT'S just the BARE MINIMUM!  YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE SHIT I WENT THROUGH FOR YOU, YOU......YOU UNGRATEFUL _BRAT_!"

He ducked around Papyrus on the stairs, running to the coat rack and grabbed his jacket before wrenching the front door open and slamming it shut with enough force to rattle a picture frame off the wall.

Papyrus stood on the stairs, his anger draining from him except for one small bit that refused to let go.  That was the first time Sans had ever said anything like that to him--

_It's the first time he's spoken to you on his own level._

He didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing.

He went with bad thing.  It was a bad thing that happened that made him feel bad, made Sans feel bad, and left a bad taste in his mandible. 

Papyrus sighed, running a hand over his face as he stepped down the stairs, standing at the bottom for a moment before making his way into the basement, finding himself standing in front of the machine.

Because he went snooping...because of this machine...he was here, in this moment, with an angry heat in his soul, a hurt and angry brother, and nothing good to show for it. 

He wanted someone to talk to.  He wanted to talk to Paps.  Walking into the machine, he brought his fingers to the data files, but paused, his hand trembling over the screen.  He wanted to talk, but he didn't want to bother Paps.  He didn't want Paps to think that he was some whiny child; goodness knows that Skeleton had enough on his own plate to think about, without having to have someone sobbing emotions at him.

Papyrus clenched his hand tightly, bringing it down on the panel with enough force to express his anger over the situation, but not enough to break it--but certainly enough to scramble out a code and activate the machine.

"What--oh no no no no no--!"

Everything when white--

\--and then grey and cold.

Papyrus twitched, his skull buzzing from being thrown gods-knew-where, taking a moment to get his bearings enough to press his hands to the ground and feel the crunch of snow under his metacarpals.  He winced, pushing himself upright and wiping the snow from his face, looking around.

It was...quiet.

He knew he was in Snowdin, but...something felt WRONG, even worse than when he went to Fell.  The trees were bare and dead in every conceivable direction, and the air smelled stale and raw, like an unwashed walk-in freezer.  And the snow looked...discolored.  He sat himself up and curled his arms around himself as he looked around again, hearing nothing but the clothes rustling on his bones and his own heavy breathing. 

The silence became too jarring to continue, and Papyrus broke it by standing up, filling it with the sound of crunching snow under his feet as he took a few tentative steps out into the cold world before him.  Only the sound of his footsteps rang out for minutes upon minutes of his slow walking, finally coming across a path and stepping onto it, the crunch of the snow becoming less defined and making the air quiet again.

Papyrus took a few steps down the path, and then suddenly froze. His bones quivered and every instinct in his soul flared up.

Something...some _one_...was behind him.

And he was TERRIFIED.

It was nothing like he'd ever felt. He was full of terror....and horror.

…..whoever...WHATever this was....

….....had so much killer intent that Papyrus practically smelled his own dust right at that moment.

He shook hard, readying his magic in his hand to fight his way out and back to the veil, whipping around—

—and seeing nothing.

…........Papyrus lowered his hand, curling his arms around himself again, looking around carefully before continuing down the path.

Up ahead, he saw something skewed off the path, looking over and seeing a morbid set of snow and ice sculptures of Dog Monsters, the expressions on the sculptures oddly...sad. Morose. Desperate. The detail was fascinating, though, and he crept closer, looking them over.

…...even the ice seemed to be melting off of the lolled tongues and open mouths like drool. It was in interesting touch, if not making the set more disturbing. He reached out, touching the head of one of the sculptures and jumped back with his hands pressed to his mouth when the head fell off, showing a severed neck portion of the spine sticking out of the rest of it.

His eyelights flickered down to the head, a piece of spine sticking out.

…...but it wasn't dusting.

Papyrus backed away until he was back on the path, his whole frame shaking hard. This wasn't right. Nothing about this place was RIGHT. He made a move to return to the veil when a soft, rhythmic tapping sound came from the distance.

_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap._

It was nothing he'd ever really heard before, and it was nothing that could be made in nature. He walked along the path, heading for the only other sound in this terrifying version of Snowdin if just to not feel like the only living creature here, stepping around a bend in the path—

—and seeing a decrepit sentry station.

And inside the station...

….was Sans.

Not HIS Sans, of course not...but the blue jacket and bony hands was a dead giveaway that he had found some form of life in this place. Creeping closer, he finally saw the source of the sound.

_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap._

Sans's fingers were rhythmically tapping on the bar of the station as his free hand supported his skull, no other movement being made. Just his fingers, taping endlessly on the wood.

Every instinct in Papyrus's body was screaming for him to run, but another part was telling him _he's a Sans. He wouldn't hurt you._ He crept closer, his movements as slow and quiet as he could muster until he was close enough to get a decent look.

This Sans looked....odd. No, 'odd' wasn't the right word. He looked...WRONG.

His bones were the color of dust and had a lifeless tint to them, and he was completely motionless, save for his tapping fingers.

_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap._

His smile was too wide, unnaturally so, and there was a discoloration in the teeth. The smile was frozen and cold and it made the ice around Papyrus's spine turn colder.

_Ta-ta-ta-ta. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta...._

The tapping stopped. The smile stretched a fraction wider. His bones actually CREAKED when he turned his head to look at Papyrus, his right eye socket completely hollow while the left...

It was a solid orb of blood red, much larger than Sans's normal eyelight, with a small quivering black pupil that honed in on him with a mix of hunger and curiosity. The sight almost made Papyrus want to pick up and run back to the veil, but he was frozen in place. He couldn't move. His soul felt suffocated in fear, and he felt like he was going to dust right here in the discolored snow...

Sans's smile receded slightly as he looked Papyrus over, his posture straightening. “...heh....you're in th' wrooooooooong universe, buddy,” he drawled, his voice sounding like if he had vocal cords, they might have been slashed at some point. “How'd ya even find this place?”

Papyrus's frame shuddered, curling his arms around himself. “...I don't know,” he admitted. “...and.....I don't know why I'm still here.” He flinched when Sans let out a sharp, raspy bark of laughter.

“Dunno why you'd wanna still be here either,” Sans retorted. “This ain't exactly a...heh....nice place t'be.”

“...what...happened here?” Papyrus mused, mostly to himself. “It's....not like Snowdin at all...”

Sans let out another laugh, leaning back in his chair. “No...no, it is not,” he agreed. “As far from it as you can possibly imagine. Yer much better off goin' right home.”

Papyrus nodded quietly, in complete agreement. “...a...alright...” he said, taking a step backwards. “...thank you for...telling me, Sans.” He was frozen for a few moments more at the unmoving stare that solid red eye had pinned on him before he forced himself to look away. “....take care.” He turned around getting the sudden suffocating sensation of fear that he had earlier, this time whipping around—

—and Sans was gone.

Papyrus's soul nearly leaped to his mouth, turning to run for the forest and jumping back with a yelp, falling back onto the snow when Sans was inches away in front of him. He scrambled backwards, staring up at this Sans in terror and seeing now that he had a front view that this Sans had a massive hole in the left side of his skull.

It was a wound that a Sans should not have; something like that should have KILLED Sans, however he managed to get it. That idea stuck in Papyrus's head as he kept slipping backwards, fearing for his life by this point.

“Hey.”

The softer tone of voice gave him pause, his terror put on pause for half a moment to look back up at Sans, whose grin had softened somewhat, his red eye's pupil having dilated somewhat to make it seem less insidious. Sans lifted a hand before outstretching it to Papyrus.

“...didn't mean t'give you such a bad scare there,” he said, his voice amused yet contrite. “...it's a force of habit. I just thought I'd give you company back to where ya need to go. It's...not exactly safe out here for ya. Trust me.” His eye flickered up at nothing, looking almost haunted. “...I'd know.”

Papyrus weighed his options before shakily reaching out and taking Sans's hand, gasping when this version of his brother pulled him up with surprising ease of strength. Sans didn't let go of his hand, squeezing it just below a level considered painful before loosening it up a bit. “...down th' path?” Sans inquired, nodding down the pathway. Papyrus nodded, and Sans silently began walking, his hold on Papyrus's hand having the younger Skeleton follow like a child.

The hand in Papyrus's own was...so cold. No matter how long his own Sans was outside, his hands were always warm and alive with magic. This hand felt...dead in his own. Dead...yet strong, a definite underlay of power with it that made Papyrus feel simultaneously safer and more guarded.

Regardless, his focus on the hand instead honed on on that hole in Sans's head, unable to NOT stare at it. A squeeze of his hand snapped him out of it, seeing that Sans's eye was staring up at him. “...I'm....sorry....” Papyrus muttered, lowering his eyelights. “...I didn't mean to stare...”

“Kinda hard not to, when it's right out there,” Sans replied, shrugging. “I got no problem with it...except when snow gets inside of it. But I deal.” He kept walking until Papyrus pointed out the place where he came from.

“...why...what happened here...?” Papyrus asked quietly. “...where's...um...me?” The hand holding his own squeezed again.

“Oh, he's out and about,” Sans replied. “Makin' his rounds, checkin' his puzzles, tryin' to find someone t'feed around here.”

“...feed?”

Sans nodded. “...it's...not as happy here as yer own universe no doubt was,” he said. “Resources go entirely ta catchin' humans....food is not a priority. It gets harder an' harder t'find food.” He grinned, this time the smile warm and proud. “Paps won't let anyone starve, if he can help it.”

Papyrus found himself smiling softly; yes, that did somewhat sound like him. And he was happy that this place didn't seem ENTIRELY bad. He kept walking for awhile until he became aware that he had walked far enough...

….but the veil wasn't there.

“...no...” he breathed, breaking free from Sans's hold and running to the exact spot he came out of, even seeing the dent in the snow from where he fell in, but the veil was GONE. “No no no no no no no! Where IS it!?” He fumbled around the air frantically, trying to find SOMETHING, but only came up with nothing. “NO! WHERE IS IT!? WHERE IS IT!?” He ran his hands over his skull, panic gripping at his soul with the realization that if this universe wasn't even on FILE, it wouldn't show that it WENT anywhere.

...and Sans would just assume the machine was powered without function, and would have turned it off.

He was STUCK here.

An icy hand on his shoulder made him jump, looking up to see this Sans staring down at him almost pityingly. “......if you can't make it home...then come home with me,” he said quietly, his voice oddly distant now. “...it's gonna get darker here...an' you don't wanna be here when it gets THAT dark.”

“...b...but....m...my home...” Papyrus stammered, curling his arms around himself tightly, tears gathering at his eye sockets. “...w..what if...it opens...and I'm not here...?” The hand on his shoulder tightened.

“We'll check back later,” Sans said. “...for now, come home with me. I'll take good care of ya...Paps too.”

The idea of being ALONE out here didn't bode well with Papyrus, and he lowered his head, resigning himself to the situation and slowly got to his feet. Sans grinned, reaching up to take one of Papyrus's hands in his own again and began walking.

Papyrus didn't know how he was keeping his terrified crying to himself; he was too numb from everything to even THINK about it.

“It's gonna be okay,” Sans said quietly, sounding more he was talking AT Papyrus rather than TO him. “...me an' Paps will take care of ya. Paps is such a good cook...he has such a good heart...” Sans's voice hitched slightly, his eye quivering. “...too good...he's too good for this world...too pure......why him....”

Papyrus was about to ask what was wrong, but was almost sent to his knees when Sans's hand clenched around his with enough force to almost crack his finger bones. “Ah—Sans—!”

Sans looked down, his grin widening as he loosened his grip. “...sorry 'bout that,” he said. “I didn't mean ta hurt ya.” He went quiet for the rest of the walk back to Snowdin...

….which looked like a decrepit ghost town.

Papyrus looked around silently, his soul going cold at the sight of so many broken, empty houses, trying to keep his spirits up as Sans pulled him along to his own house, which didn't look all that better, but obviously had someone living there with enough care to keep it kept up at least a little.

Sans quietly walked in, the house much warmer than Papyrus had expected with the definite scent of food coming from the kitchen. Sans grinned, shutting the door behind him. “Paps, you home?” he called out.

“Of course I am, brother!” came Papyrus's own voice from the kitchen, albeit sounding slightly slurred like he had something in his mouth. “And I almost have all the food ready!”

“Save some for yerself, Paps! You need to...heh heh heh...put some meat on yer bones.”

“Oh, Sans, you're awful!” A pause. “...have you brought a guest?”

Sans grinned. “However did you guess? I sure did.”

“Oh, good! He can have the first batch!” There was scuffling around the kitchen as Sans tugged on Papyrus's hand to let him know to bend down lower, and Papyrus complied as Sans lowered his voice.

“...it might not be to yer taste, but eat it, alright?” he said softly. “He put a lotta...heh...blood an' sweat into it. An' food isn't easy to come by. Alright?”

Papyrus nodded; of course he would eat it. He disliked wasting food at all, anyway. “Of course,” he replied, letting Sans lead him to the dining table and sitting down.

“Is our guest comfortable?” his other self asked. “The food is ready!”

Sans sat down across from Papyrus. “He sure is,” he said, giving Papyrus a grin. Papyrus returned it as his other self walked in, and his grin became frozen in horror.

This Papyrus...this version of HIMSELF...was HORRIFYING.

He was wearing the battle body that he himself wore back in his own Snowdin days, but it looked like it had been through countless fights and never washed once in MONTHS. His bones were unnaturally thin which gave him an even more grotesque frame, but none of it compared to when Papyrus looked higher and saw that this Papyrus had jagged, broken teeth that were stained and had bits of food stuck in between them.

His other self looked surprised at the sight of Papyrus, but it faded to exasperation. “Sans, have you been messing with your time shenanigans again?” he demanded, his hands on his iliac crests. “You KNOW you're not supposed to!”

Sans shrugged, grinning wider. “Nah, it ain't me,” he said. “All this guy...an' he might be stayin' for awhile. So let's make a good first impression, alright?” He sat back in his chair. “An' we're both hungry for yer masterpiece tonight.”

This Papyrus beamed, turning and grabbing a large bowl of spaghetti and putting it down in the middle of the table. “Of course you are!” he exclaimed, putting it onto plates for Sans and Papyrus, giving Papyrus the first plate. “Here you are,” he said kindly. “Only the first and freshest for a guest!”

Papyrus forced himself to look away from his other self and down at the plate, feeling a twinge of nausea; it didn't really...LOOK all that bad; no worse than his own first few attempts at spaghetti, anyway. But the SMELL was all off...it smelled...sharp and almost metallic. He almost wanted to decline, but that freezing, suffocating terror he knew now to be Sans's staring kept him from doing so. He gave his other self a frightened, shaky smile as he picked up his fork and twirled the spaghetti around the prongs before bringing it up to his mouth and putting it in.

Oh GODS, he wanted to gag and spit it out so badly, but a self-control honed by years of his own resolution to be in the Royal Guard kept him from doing so, and he instead chewed and swallowed, forcing down the nausea.

“Sooooo?” his other self pried, looking anxious. “How is it?”

 _AWFUL_ , Papyrus wanted to scream, but he instead shakily twirled more into his fork. “...it's...good,” he said, giving his other self a forced smile, which seemed to do the trick as that Papyrus actually squealed with delight and sat down to watch him eat.

And eat Papyrus did. He ate the entire plate as his other self conversed with Sans over Papyrus's door-to-door feeding rounds, and it was while the two were talking and Papyrus was finishing off his last bite that Papyrus felt something...off in his mouth. He lifted his hand and picked between his teeth...

….and pulled out a long white hair about four inches long.

His hand shook slightly, catching Sans's eye staring at him with a warning to NOT SAY A WORD. Papyrus lowered his hand, forcing himself to swallow the last bite as his other self scooped up the rest of the bowl.

“I'm off to see if anyone else needs food!” he announced. “I should be back shortly! See you soon, other me!” He left, and Papyrus was once more alone with Sans.

Sans smiled at Papyrus from the other end of the table, his head resting on one hand while the other hand drummed his fingers on the table.

_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap._

“....what...was in that...?” Papyrus asked shakily. “...why...was....” He trailed off, unable to say more. Sans sighed, his eye glancing wistfully out the window.

“...he's such a good boy...” Sans said softly. “...too good for this world....he never should've even gotten caught up in all this...” His pinky finger brushed the brim of his empty eye socket thoughtfully. “...Snowdin was...almost always th' last to get food sent......an' it was...so hard findin' food t' feed him. But I did it...I always managed ta get food, to feed him...”

His voice trembled near the end of his sentence, his eye quivering hard. “...what he didn't tell me...was that he was...givin' ALL his food away ta th' neighbors...starvin' himself so he could make sure no one else went hungry...” He let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. “...an'....an' I'm such a horrible fuckin' brother for not seein' it...!”

His voice began to creak, his phalanges curling into his eye socket. “...he was STARVIN'....he was HURTIN'.....an'...an' one day....heh....heheheheheheh....” His shoulders shook hard with his chuckling. “...he was so...so fuckin' HUNGRY....an' let's just say....”

The fingers on the table stopped drumming as he lifted his hand to nearly stuff it into the hole in his head.

“ **Bones don't exactly fill ya up so good.”**

Papyrus nearly lost all the food he ate, his hand flying to his mouth. Sans laughed at his expression, taking his hand out of his skull hole and resumed drumming his fingers on the table.

_Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-ta-tap._

“Things CHANGE in a Monster...when ya get THAT desperate,” he continued, his pupil shrinking and making the red of his eye more prominent. “...myself included. I couldn't just let my little brother STARVE!” His fingers curled into the wood of the table, making deep scratches with loud scraping sounds before he curled his fingers into a fists and slammed it into the table, making Papyrus jump. “I WOULD'A LET 'IM EAT ME! I WOULD'A FED HIM EVERY BONE IN MY BODY!” Blood-red tears filled his eye sockets, dripping morbidly down his cheekbones.

“....but bones don't fill ya up so good, do they? Nah...nah, I had ta live...I had ta feed 'im....I had ta ignore th' natural order of things tellin' me I should DIE, get up, an' go find my baby brother somethin' ta eat...” His grin went unnaturally wide, the eye lowering down to stare at the plate of spaghetti Papyrus had just eaten.

“...meat fills ya up...nice an' good......an' I didn't like th' way that fuckin' Dog was starin' at my brother like a pile o' chew toys...so...” He jerked his finger across his neck bones with a sickening _'CRRK'_ sound.

“...he had ta go.”

Papyrus's body shook hard, unable to move.

“But Paps...he...he kept FEEDIN' everyone else before himself! Kept STARVIN' himself! So...I figured, two birds with one stone!” Sans grinned wider. “I...'trim' down th' population in Snowdin...he has fewer mouths ta feed...an' he eats more! More time ta spend on his puzzles! More time ta make sure humans are 'taken care of'! Everything worked out FINE!”

Papyrus's magic lurched, wanting a purge of this tainted magical residue OUT of his body. He gripped the edge of the table so tightly his bones almost cracked, crying profusely. “...why....?” he whimpered. “...why would...you kill your friends...why....WHY?!”

Sans's smile receded. “....you...are really askin' me that?” he demanded, his eye twitching in his socket. “....what....what th' hell do ya MEAN, 'why'!? HE'S MY BROTHER!” He slammed his palms on the table, making the whole thing rattle. “HE'S MY BABY BROTHER! I WOULD KILL FOR 'IM! I WOULD DIE FOR 'IM! I WOULD LET HIM FEAST ON EVERY BONE IN MY BODY IF IT MEANT HE COULD LIVE ANOTHER DAY! I WOULD DO **ANYTHING FOR HIM!** ”

Papyrus jerked back from the table when Sans lurched onto it, fingertips curved like claws that dug into the table as he crawled over it toward Papyrus, his eye quivering almost violently in his socket. “My baby brother needs food,” he hissed. “My baby brother needs sustenance to LIVE! If I gotta butcher a couple o' neighbors so he can eat, then so be it!”

He reached behind into his jacket and brought out a bloody butcher knife, raising his head, his mouth now full of piercing, sharp teeth.

“ **I THINK PAPY NEEDS SOMETHING MORE LEAN TO EAT TONIGHT.”**

Papyrus screamed, shoving his hands under the edge of the table and flipping it hard, sending Sans with it as he bolted out the door and into the hellish Snowdin. He ran. He ran.

He ran.

He ran.

He ran.

All the while, feeling that suffocating terror following behind him, the glint of a butcher knife flickering in his peripheral. He sobbed, running faster, faster, faster, faster—

—until he tripped on a branch and pitched face-first into the snow.

The shock of his tripping paired with the numbness of the snow and his run froze him in the moment, his body unwilling to move as he heard the crunch of footsteps in snow approach him. They paused right in front of him, and waited patiently until he raised his head to look up.

Sans stood above him, his blood-red eye glowing in the darkness and dimly illuminating his sharp, jagged teeth. He trailed a phalange slowly over the edge of the butcher knife, his expression almost sad. “...I have to feed my little brother,” he said softly, raising the knife over his head.

“Your Sans would do the same for you.”

Papyrus's eyelights constricted into nothing as he stared at that blade, wanting, with every fiber of his being to be

_**ANYWHERE** _

_**BUT** _

_**HERE** _

The knife swung down—

—and Papyrus felt like his soul had been swallowed by suffocating nothingness and everythingness at the same time, hurling his entire being, his very EXISTENCE, into that nothingness with it—

.

.

.

.

.

Silence.

Papyrus unclenched his aching body, his head full of static with the physical sensation of having his whole body dismantled and put back together like the clock in his room as he looked around.

….Snowdin.

….no.

…....there was snow, but.....

...there were trees.

With pine needles.

A soft, cold winter breeze.

….sunlight.

He winced as he turned himself onto his back, staring up at the orange-pink sky of dusk, seeing his breathing mist in the air, eyelights flicking to the side to see the backside of his own house.

On the Surface.

A hitch caught his breath, which turned into more hitching, and tears, and crying...and then loud, wailing sobs.

The wailing drew attention, and the back door swung open, Sans looking out and seeing his little brother lying sprawled back in the shallow snow, sobbing like the world was ending. He rushed out, forgetting their fight earlier, forgetting his anger, and hurriedly scooped Papyrus up out of the cold snow.

Papyrus felt familiar hands, warm with magic holding him, and curled up tightly, burying his face in Sans's jacket and crying harder.

He was cold.

He was terrified.

He was in agony.

But most of all.

He was sorry.

  


 


	6. Meeting Dusttale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dusttale is a Korean AU, courtesy of ask-dusttale and calvateyla on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JFC another longass chapter. OTL I regret so much, yet nothing.

Sans only asked once what made Papyrus have a breakdown in the backyard, but after Papyrus just shook his head and said nothing, the matter was—thankfully—dropped. Their earlier fight was not mentioned as Sans half-carried Papyrus into the house and upstairs to Papyrus's room. He sat on the edge of Papyrus's bed, staring at the younger Skeleton with an unreadable expression, like he was torn between worry, pity, and the sting that remained from earlier.

Papyrus curled up in his bed, wanting to purge that entire day's experience from his mind, from start to finish. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk to Sans about going to some....horror of a universe he went to. He didn't want to talk about seeing another version of his brother that shouldn't have even been alive. He didn't want to talk about eating some Monster cooked in with the spaghetti that was still churning around in his own magic, desperate to regurgitate in privacy to avoid MORE questions.

But most of all....he didn't want to confront the fact that Sans had been right.

And that he had been wrong.

Finally, Sans stood up and quietly left Papyrus's bedroom, turning the light off and shutting the door, leaving Papyrus in dark silence.

The solitude made Papyrus aware of just how agonizing the entire experience was, on his mind, and on his body. He curled up tighter, wincing at the throbbing ache in his bones as he did so, recalling the sensation of being pulled apart and put back together right before he was home.

….for that matter....why WAS he home?

HOW was he home?

The veil was gone, and by all intents and purposes, he should be dust right now. But he had somehow made it home, missing his house by just a few meters, and was safe.

...he didn't FEEL all that safe. He still felt the cold terror of that horror universe's Sans staring at his back....he could still see that blood-red eye staring hungrily at him....he could still taste the flesh of whatever Monster he had eaten—

Papyrus's own magic rebelled, and he barely made it to his waste bin before vomiting out the foreign, impure magic in his system. It came out in a blackish-red sludge the sight of which made Papyrus retch twice more before he finally stopped, wiping his damp eye sockets with his sleeve and curling back up again.

He didn't want to think right now. The blessing of him returning home unharmed would just have to wait, he thought as he pulled up his sheets and put his pillow over his head; as silly as it seemed, he didn't want to chance anything staring at him whilst he slept.

* * *

 

Sans was not there when he trudged downstairs for breakfast the next morning. His lack of wallet and keys on the table by the door told Papyrus that he had left for work, and Papyrus was suddenly aware of the loneliness of the house.

He curled his arms around himself, feeling as cold as he had in that horror universe and twice as alone. He quietly walked into the kitchen and made himself some tea, staring out at the bleak, cold weather, no longer enthralled or comfortable with the snowy atmosphere. It didn't look bright and cheerful...it now reminded him too much of the dead, dark world he had almost dusted in.

Papyrus sat on the couch, staring at the television that wasn't even on, holding his tea mug in his hands and was only aware that his hands were shaking when his bones rattled against the porcelain. He winced, tightening his hold on the mug and sipped the now-lukewarm liquid, not feeling any better at all.

He doubted he would ever feel better again.

The air only got darker as snow storm clouds closed in, and Papyrus felt the urge to turn on every light in the house to make the darkness go away. He didn't WANT to feel this way. He wanted to look outside and feel freshness and joy. He wanted to sleep without nightmares. He wanted to be able to eat without remembering the LAST full meal he had.

He wanted to be normal again.

 _**“** _ _**YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE SHIT I WENT THROUGH FOR YOU”** _

Papyrus flinched hard, almost dropping his mug when Sans's voice rang through his skull. He put his mug down and pulled his knees up to his rib cage, curling his arms around them tightly. What right did he have to complain about this? What right did he have at ALL to feel bad when SANS was the one who had been dealing with this, with YEARS' worth on top of it, even.

If only he hadn't snooped and found that machine in the first place...

Papyrus quietly uncurled himself, mechanically walking down to the basement and stood before the machine, which was turned off with the key to start it put away. It was so silent and innocent-looking that Papyrus could scarcely believe it was the source of his nightmares, his pain, his strife with his brother.

“....this is all your fault...” Papyrus muttered, not even knowing if he was talking to the machine or to himself. “...if you hadn't....if...I....” Tears made his vision swim, slumping to the floor with only the machine supporting him as breathless sobs rattled his rib cage. Everything—EVERYTHING—from Swap to Horror, crashed into him and came forth all at once, and he couldn't STAND it.

It was too much.

It wanted it to stop.

He wanted to forget EVERYTHING.

To just

make

it

GO

AWAY

–

–

–

And Papyrus felt his breath being taken away as he was torn to pieces and thrown into the blackness before being spat back out face-first into snow.

Papyrus bit back a cry of pain, all of his bones stinging and aching and his skull pounding on top of it all. He twitched his body, trying to figure out how to move what for a few moments before pushing himself up, if only to keep from smothering in the snow. He took several deep breaths, looking around quietly.

It looked like his Snowdin...well, most any Snowdin that wasn't....THAT Snowdin. But he could FEEL it wasn't his Snowdin. And that meant that whatever he had done to get back home...he did it again to get HERE.

...he wanted to go home.

….................

…................

…..................

…..and of course, it wouldn't work when he waned it to.

Papyrus clenched his jaw tightly, pushing himself to sit up and look around again, not wanting to get caught off-guard in case this wasn't a good-news universe. It was quiet...and lonely. It was like his home.

Not very comforting.

Papyrus sighed softly, reaching up and tugging his scarf up higher, somewhat glad he had put it back on sometime in the early hours as a comfort anchor. It smelled off HIS Snowdin, of comfort and happier times, but right now, he was more grateful for the warmth it provided and absently wondered when he began to feel the cold.

As a Skeleton, he didn't really FEEL temperature, so much as get the gist of it...and living in Snowdin DID require some fuller clothing, lest he get snow in his bones. But now...even more recently...he was feeling coldness that sifted through his bones and into his soul, making him all the more aware of temperature, and all the more sensitive to the cold.

He made his way to Snowdin without any problems and stood at the border of the town, seeing everything intact, FAMILIAR to his own universe, but just...quiet. The welcome sign to Snowdin had fizzled down to just two functioning lights, and the lights were off in every building. It was almost like it had been abandoned, but undisturbed, making him wonder if this really WAS his universe. He hadn't been back Underground since coming up, so he had no real basis for comparison.

Grillby's old restaurant was still there, sign up and everything, but it too was dark inside. Out of mere curiosity, Papyrus opened the door and slipped inside, the lack of warmth given off by the Fire Monster making it seem not any warmer than it was outside. Despite Papyrus's frienemy-like relationship with Grillby, he found himself wishing for the Monster's company, if only just to give him some semblance of normalcy.

He walked across the floor and up to the bar, staring at the seat that Sans would frequent every time he came here and felt a twinge of guilt at any mere mention of his brother. It wasn't fair...not for Sans to spend day after day pretending everything was okay, even for someone who only gave him a passing glance every day. What a farce Sans must have forced himself to live through...

Papyrus rubbed his face, sighing heavily as he turned to leave and frowned when he felt a gritty sensation under his shoe. He backed up and looked at the floor, seeing what appeared to be—

...dust.

Alarms were blaring in Papyrus's skull; the rest of the restaurant was spotless, as Grillby always kept it, but there was a spread of dust just in this one spot. He took another step back and jumped when a sharp crunch crackled from under his foot, looking down and feeling his soul jolt when he saw a familiar pair of glasses now shattered on the ground.

Oh gods.

Those belonged to Grillby.

This DUST PILE belonged to GRILLBY.

Papyrus knew for a FACT that his own universe's Grillby had a new establishment not a ten-minute walk from his house, and wouldn't have had to come back down here for ANYTHING. This was NOT his universe.

But whatever universe this was.....

….Grillby was dead and if this were any harbinger of indication, Papyrus was CERTAIN he would find similar piles of dust in any chosen house in this town.

Perhaps even in Waterfall, Hotland, the Capitol—oh gods was EVERYONE dusted here?!

Papyrus stumbled out of the restaurant, leaning against the side of the establishment as he struggled to get his nausea under control. The atmosphere in Snowdin grew ten times bleaker, now that he knew WHY it looked so desolate.

Everyone was dead and gone.

It would serve him right, somehow managing to find his way into a universe where everyone died. Perhaps including himself and Sans...and he was the only thing left alive in this whole place.

Papyrus sniffled softly, numbly making his way down the snowy path through Snowdin, mental imagines of his neighbors flashing through his mind as he passed each house, memories of sentries and Guardsmen passing through and greeting the Snowdin folk cheerfully on their way to Grillby's for a drink and rest...

...and then he came to his own house.

Papyrus stood in front of it for the longest time, hands flexing tightly as he debated his choices before walking up to the door and resting his hand on the doorknob before turning it. The door clicked and creaked open, and Papyrus stood inside a perfect replica of the home he once had in his own Snowdin.

His mind instantly categorized this place as perhaps a 2 or 3 out of 10 in the universal differential scale...one where it was nearly identical to his own, only with SOMETHING having gone differently. He had seen a few universe with Sans, where things were the same, only the Monsters were able to wield their magic in the form of dancing ('Dance', Sans had proclaimed it as, clearly impressed with that universe's physical prowess in movement), or even one where Monsters expressed themselves through the use of instruments ('Music', and Papyrus kept thinking about perhaps taking violin lessons for some time after). And now he was here...where everyone was dead. 'Dust' seemed appropriate, he morbidly thought as he looked through the house.

He saw everything the same, down to the damn sock with post-it notes sitting in the corner, and the sight made him so uncomfortable that he made his way upstairs instead, hoping that he wouldn't find any dust piles anywhere. The last thing he needed right now was to see anything like that. But, to his surprise...there was nothing. His own room in this universe was spotless, and Sans's was filthy, but everything was exactly as it should be.

It made his soul twinge with hope; perhaps...he and Sans had managed to survive out here, he thought to himself as he hurried back downstairs and out the door. Maybe they had just gone out looking for food in another part of the Underground...that made sense, right? He made his way out of Snowdin, keeping an eye socket out for any movement, and he found none.

He soon came to Waterfall, the gentle patter of water easing his nerves; Waterfall always managed to do that. Snowdin had always been his home, but Waterfall was a place of zen for him. The scent of echoflowers, the sound of water falling, and the cool, damp air gave him peace in a way nowhere else in the Underground could. Still, it WAS rather wet today, more 'rainy' than he could remember it being, and was grateful that the bin of umbrellas was still there.

He walked around Waterfall, his footfalls silent as he trekked, and became aware that it was...TOO silent. His soul sank, realizing that whatever had caused everyone to dust had occurred here too; only, with all the 'rain', the dust would have washed away or sunk into the ground. It was a horribly depressing thought, and it made him take a breather as he sat on a rock and contemplated everything.

He wanted to leave this place; the Underground here, it seemed, was nothing more than one big giant tomb for Monsterkind, and it felt...WRONG traipsing around in it. But no matter how hard he thought, or how vividly he tried to recall how he felt when he came here in the first place...he couldn't leave. He couldn't...'disassemble' himself to go back to his own universe. He was stuck here.

Tears dripped down his face, feeling pangs of despair and pain for the Monsters who had died here, from either disease or an attack...or whatever it was. He felt like each of them deserved something better, better than just having their dust piles settle where they died.

But he could do nothing.

Papyrus sat in silence, only the sound of falling 'rain' and the gentle rushing of water in the caverns keeping him company, and it was only when a break in that continuous source came through that Papyrus looked up.

...it almost sounded like...

...humming.

He sat up straight, straining to hear to make sure he wasn't hallucinating...no, no it was clear; someone was humming around the corner. His hand trembled as he clenched it around the umbrella, silently stepping over the stones of the pathway as he followed the sound, the humming growing louder and clearer, and he paused before turning and peeking around the corner of the cavern, nearly dropping his umbrella when he saw...

...Sans.

A blue jacket, hood pulled up, hands casually stuffed in the pockets...only the bare tibiae and fibulae gave the actual person away, but it was SANS. Papyrus stared, feeling his soul pound in his rib cage as he stared at this universe's version of his brother, who had his back turned and seemed to be staring up at the cavern ceiling as he hummed loudly without a care.

Past the relief at finding another living creature—a version of his brother, even—Papyrus began to feel...discerned. Why was Sans here, instead of in Snowdin? Why was he just...standing there, humming? Where was this version of himself?

There was an insistent rattling in his soul that was screaming at him to KEEP HIS GUARD UP. DEFEND. RUN. And Papyrus had now learned that disregarding those warnings only led in something unpleasant and horrifying. He took a step back and froze when loose gravel in the patch crunched under his foot.

The humming stopped.

It seemed that not even the natural sounds of Waterfall were audible as Papyrus trembled, watching this Sans lower his head from behind, shoulders hunching slightly.

“...there's someone here...” Sans said, his voice higher-pitched than Papyrus was used to with a singsong tilt to it. “Come out...don't be shy...I didn't think there was anyone left here....” Sans turned around, his face shrouded in the shade under his hood, though Papyrus could plainly see eyelights glowing underneath. And then there was a pause, and the eyelights grew larger, Sans's hands slipping from his pockets.

“....P...Papyrus....”

Papyrus's hand shook hard enough to make the umbrella tremble, not knowing whether to turn and run or reach out and comfort this Sans, whose voice seemed to break just at saying his name. The choice was far too late, when Sans's hands clenched.

“...no...no no no no no....” Sans growled. “Not him...not Papyrus...you CAN'T be him....” His eyelights blazed under his hood, illuminating his skull to show off a demented and unhinged smile that seemed more angry than anything else before he turned to the space beside him and barked, “WHAT KIND OF SHIT _IS_ THIS!?”

Papyrus's eyelights flickered to the space next to Sans, having at first glance seen nothing, but then—oh gods. His hand dropped the umbrella, shaking hard when a corporeal mass seemed to form right at Sans's eye-level—a skull shrouded with a flowing, scrapped semblance of a red scarf and a pair of disembodied red-gloved hands that seemed to be gesturing placatingly.

Papyrus's own hand reached up and touched the scarf around his neck; he would know that thing anywhere...he would know those gloves anywhere, and he would DEFINITELY know that SKULL anywhere.

...that...THING...was HIM.

“WHAT IS THIS!?” Sans was growling, his eyelights quivering madly. “It's NOT YOU! IT'S—“ He broke off with a sharp swear. “It's GOTTA be Alphys, that BITCH, wherever she is! I'm gonna find her an' then I'm gonna—“

 _“Brother, please...”_ the spectral Papyrus said softly, brushing one of his hands over Sans's hood. _“Do not work yourself up like this. Think clearly now. You can't let something like this distract you.”_

Sans visibly relaxed. “...yes....you're right...” he muttered. “Can't let her distract me...not from this...” He glanced back over at Papyrus, his expression having gone from furious to almost blank. “...so...what brings you here, pal?”

Papyrus took another step back, his eyelights flickering from Sans to...THAT. It quietly stared back, and Papyrus could see that its eye sockets were filled with a solid, blood-red light that...oh gods, it was dripping out of the eye sockets...it was unnatural, whatever it was... He took another step back from the pair, his eyelights unable to part from the thing that had become of himself.

Sans frowned, looking between Papyrus and the specter next to him, standing up straight with a start when he realized—“You can see him?” In a blink of an eye, he was in front of Papyrus, hands clenched into the taller Skeleton's humeri tightly. “You can SEE him!? CAN YOU!?” He shook Papyrus hard and Papyrus stumbled back, almost taking them both to the ground as he desperately nodded. Sans let out a sharp bark of laughter, letting Papyrus go before turning to the spectral Papyrus behind him. “HE CAN SEE YOU! I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!” He dropped to his knees, laughing hysterically as he ran his hands over his covered skull. “THOSE FUCKERS WERE WRONG! I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M NOT! I'M NOT!”

Papyrus trembled violently, flicking his eyelights between Sans on the ground and the spectral form of himself gliding over, the THING more disturbing to look at up close. The spectral thing rested a hand on Sans's back comfortingly.

 _“Did you really need the validation of others to know I was real?”_ he murmured, almost sounding hurt. Sans's head shot up, his left eyelight—which Papyrus saw now was red with a ring of blue around the pupil—constricting tightly.

“No, of course not!” Sans snapped. “But validation that I'm NOT crazy for all this is nice too!” The spectral Papyrus kept patting Sans's back, his ire fading back into a calm stoniness. “...I never doubted you, Pap...I promise...you're the only one who understands...” His right eyelight flicked to Papyrus, who flinched back. “...but...this one, on the other hand...I hate that look...I hate it when people look at me like I'm crazy! When they can't UNDERSTAND—!”

“I...I don't think you're crazy!” Papyrus cried, half-lying and holding his hands up placatingly. “Please, I...I didn't mean to offend you, I just...!” He yelped when Sans lurched up and grabbed one of his wrists. “Let me go!”

“EXP is EXP,” Sans rasped, his left eyelight quivering, his grin going demented again as his free hand glowed, summoning a volley of sharp bones behind him. “You're Papyrus! You'll....you UNDERSTAND, right!? RIGHT!?”

“SANS, LET ME GO—!” Papyrus let out a sharp cry of pain when Sans jerked him to the ground, keeping him pinned. “WAIT—!”

“I HAVE to, Paps...!” Sans said, his voice shaking softly, from emotion or madness, Papyrus didn't know. “That...that fuckin' human...I have to stop 'em...I have to...be STRONGER than them! You get it, right? You UNDERSTAND, RIGHT?!” He raised his hand, his fingers twitching as he prepared to send the blow.

 _“Sans...”_ the spectral Papyrus almost purred, circling Sans's head, the ghostly scarf trailing around him. _“...was I not enough? Was my understanding of it all not enough? Are you really so greedy that you would kill me twice?”_

Sans's hand trembled, his expression falling. “...Paps...I'm...” His arm dropped, turning to his spectral brother, his hand still keeping Papyrus's wrist in a death grip. “...I'm not bein' greedy, you KNOW that! I'm doin' what NEEDS to be done, to FREE everyone from this hell!” He reached up with his free hand, hovering it over the specter's face. “...you said you understood...”

 _“I DO understand, brother,”_ the specter replied. _“And isn't that enough? That one person understands? Have your reasons for this turned to greed, rather than your duty?”_ The blood-like tears streamed more copiously down his face. _“Do you take PLEASURE in killing me now? I thought it was for the best, not for your pleasure...”_

“NO!” Sans practically threw Papyrus's arm from him, hands reaching out to his ghostly brother. “Papyrus, you KNOW that isn't true! You KNOW it! I...I SAVED you from being killed by that fucking human! It was better that _I_ do it, right!? You SAID it was okay! You SAID SO!”

The ghostly form reached up and rested his hands on Sans's shoulders. _“Then do not be greedy. Killing me once gave you what you needed. You needn't do it again.”_ He leaned back, turning to stare at Papyrus with those disturbing red eye sockets. _“...and you need to eat, brother. You have patrolled for three days straight. All that LV is nothing if you dust from starvation.”_

Sans's shoulders dropped, his smile thankful and almost loving. “...of course, Paps...” he murmured, brushing his fingers over the specter's face. “...you're always lookin' out for me...” He stood up straight, tugging his hood further over his skull as he headed off, humming to himself again and leaving Papyrus alone with the spectral copy.

Papyrus could feel his body shaking the the specter turned to him, eye sockets glowing red and smile getting almost unnaturally wider. He jerked back when the ghostly thing hovered closer, barely inches away skull-to-skull.

 _“Oh, pardon my rudeness,”_ that thing said, but didn't retreat any. _“It has been so long since I've seen the rest of my body...”_ Even without distinct eyelights as a cue, Papyrus could FEEL that specter's gaze lingering over him. _“...let alone so whole...why...the last time I remember having the rest of my body....”_ His eye sockets began leaking that red fluid again.

_**“IT WAS IN PIECES.”** _

Papyrus's breath hitched hard, feeling like his soul was being held down by a 5x mass of blue magic, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. His eye sockets brimmed with tears of terror, his hands clenching into the stone underneath him. “...w...what....are you...?” he stammered. “...why....what is this place...why is....WHY!?” His arms shook, almost collapsing under him as the specter hovered closer again before circling around Papyrus like a predator, the ghostly trail of his scarf entwining behind him and making Papyrus feel like he was being pelted with ice every time it touched him.

 _“It is such a long, tedious story,”_ the specter said, then paused staring Papyrus in the face again. _“It would be easier to SHOW you.”_

“...show me wh—“ Papyrus cut off with a scream when the specter lurched forward and seemed to dive right into his skull through his eye sockets, filling his skull with an aura that was both colder than ice and hotter than magma, the sensation brutally agonizing and violating. He suffered the experience for moments that seemed like hours before he was ripped away from his consciousness and thrown to the forefront of...something else.

_PAIN_

_AGONY_

_FEAR_

_DESPAIR_

_WHY_

_WHY_

_**WHY** _

_“WHY, SANS!?”_

_Papyrus struggled to remain upright, agony jolting through his bones at every move he made. His left tibia and fibula was separated from his femur, having been severed by a bone that was still sticking out of the ground. His right arm was broken, having used it to shield himself from a blow to his head, and he had several bones spearing him through, rendering him almost immobile._

_But this pain...this agony was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his soul as he looked up through tear-drenched eye sockets at his older brother standing above him, killer intent seeping out of his aura._

_The aura was contradicted by the soft, almost serene smile on Sans's face as he looked down on his little brother. “I told you why, Paps,” he said softly, swaying in place as a harsh wind kicked up in the snowy forest. “It's...so complicated...but...I know you'll listen to me and understand, right?” He knelt down in front of Papyrus, demeanor likening to having a friendly conversation._

_“...I've watched that human murder everyone again and again and again...and they do it because they CAN. Because they're STRONG, and BRIMMING with Determination. I've tried SO fucking HARD to stop 'em, bro...” His hand reached out, twitching as he brushed his fingers along Papyrus's skull, ignoring his brother's flinching._

_“...I've watched that human...murder YOU again and again and again...and each time it happens....I feel another part of me die inside...because I know in th' end...I won't be strong enough to stop it. An' all I can do is watch an' wait for the inevitable.” He sat back on his heels, the red in his left eyelight flickering brighter, engulfing more of the blue he was more known for._

_“...but not this time.” His voice went hard, hands clenching tightly. “I want to STOP it, Papyrus. I want to FINALLY stop that FUCKIN' KID, an' STOP IT FOR GOOD. And...for that to happen...I need to be STRONGER. I need more power. I need more HP. An' to do that...I need more LOVE.” He gave Papyrus a watery smile, his cheerful mask cracked with the brimming of tears in his eye sockets._

_“...don't you see? I'll stop 'em, Papyrus...you won't suffer them anymore...”_

_Papyrus let out a sob, tears streaming down his face. “I'm...suffering NOW, Sans...!” he choked out, his one good arm twitching to keep himself upright. “Why...why didn't you TELL me?! I would've...I...I still CAN help you, Sans!” He gave Sans a desperate, pain-filled smile. “I'll help you, brother! W-we can do it t-together!”_

_He forced his torso to stay upright, lifting his good arm to reach out for Sans. “....just...stop this, Sans...you...you can do b-better! I'm h-here for you, I—“ He flinched back when Sans stood up and glowered down at him._

_“...that's what you keep sayin' to the human,” Sans growled, his eyelights glowing brighter. “....an' they keep killin' you for it. It won't stop, Papyrus...this is the only way...and besides...” His anger melted into a soft, almost happy smile. “...it's better to be killed by me than them...right? I'm only doing what's best for you.”_

_Papyrus let out a sob, reaching out further. “SANS, PLEASE! WE CAN GET THROUGH THIS TOGETHER! I BELIEVE IN Y—“_

_He cut off with a wet gasp when a sharp bone was hurled into his rib cage, shattering his sternum and piercing his soul._

_He felt cold._

_He felt...so cold..._

_His vision began to fuzz white around the edges, barely making out the horrified expression on Sans's face as his body slumped forward, jostling the bones that were already piercing him but he couldn't feel anything anymore. He couldn't even feel Sans's hands on his shoulders, on his face, hovering around the bones like he was trying to pull them out..._

_“...it's okay...” he said softly, seeing Sans freeze at his voice. “...if this....is what you need to be happy...if this is...what you truly feel is right....if you need my death.....then it's...okay...”_

_**IT'S NOT OKAY** _

_“Oh gods, Papyrus, I...I didn't...”_

_“...it's okay, Sans...”_

_**IT'S NOT OKAY** _

_“...I forgive you...”_

_**HOW COULD YOU** _

_“...do...what you must...”_

_**HOW COULD YOU** _

_“Papyrus!”_

_**HOW COULD YOU** _

_His bones were dusting, but he couldn't feel it._

_All he could feel..._

_….was...._

_…......_

_…......_

_…....._

**DETERMINATION**

Papyrus lurched forward, violently vomiting out what looked like red liquid thick and gritty with dust that reformed into the spectral version of himself, almost sobbing with pain and BURNING in his bones as he collapsed on the ground, shaking with the onslaught of secondhand sensations and emotions that he had been forced to endure.

For EXP...

….for LV......

….....for POWER.....

Sans had killed him.

SANS HAD KILLED HIM.

He let out a wail of emotional agony, curling up tightly as he relived those last few moments over and over and over until he was too tired to think anymore. The spectral form of himself hovered over his skull, staring down softly.

 _“But I did not die,”_ he said quietly. _“I couldn't. A Monster's Determination is such a strange, fickle thing...and in a moment, can change everything.”_ He brushed his hands over Papyrus's skull, disregarding the sharp flinching. _“I am the embodiment of an emotion...of a memory...of the last shred of conscience that Sans had combined with the despair in Papyrus's soul, created with Determination and dust to make me.”_

He shifted down so he was ground-level with Papyrus's skull, giving him a morbid smile. _“And in this way...I DO understand. I understand everything Sans tried to tell me but was unable to. I see what that human had done to me, COUNTLESS times, and I felt his Determination to finish it once and for all.”_ He folded his hands under his mandible, looking almost playful.

 _“But just because I understand, doesn't make what he did to me forgivable,”_ he continued, his voice teetering on sinister. _“He could have asked me to join him. He could have hidden me away. But instead, he KILLED me, and then had the AUDACITY to regret it and expect my forgiveness. But how can you forgive a brother you loved and adored and begged for your life from, only to have that life taken from you with a smile?”_

Red Determination dripped from his eye sockets again, pooling onto the ground before vanishing. _“Sometimes he FORGETS he regrets it, and so I have to remind him...of times when I had a body. When I could laugh and interact and hold him, but he has to live with the fact that he took that away.”_

Papyrus trembled hard, clenching his eye sockets shut. “...don't...you love him anymore...?” he murmured weakly. The spectral form's smile went frozen.

 _“It wasn't love that created me,”_ he replied. _“Only desperation, Determination, and regret. But that doesn't mean I want to vanish into nothingness.”_ His skull hovered up over Papyrus again. _“With every scrap of EXP and LV Sans earns, it feeds into his Determination...it feeds into ME. But progress is so SLOW, when Alphys evacuated many Monsters to a safe zone we cannot find...and without that Determination, I cannot truly LIVE.”_ His eye sockets glowed a brighter red, smile growing wider.

 _“YOU can see me because you ARE me. Because YOU feel the same vindictive spirit that I do for what YOUR Sans did to YOU! And I feel...that perhaps we can form a collaborative...arrangement of sorts.”_ He floated closer as Papyrus found the nerve to shift back. _“I want a physical body. YOU want to be taken seriously. I think we can compromse on that.”_

“WHAT!?” Papyrus jumped up, his limbs shaky and numb. “NO! NO, I don't WANT that! I want OUT of here, I want to go HOME!” He yelped when the spectral form gestured sharply with one floating hand and grabbed his soul in a blue hold. “W-WAIT—!”

 _“I WANT OUT OF THIS DEAD-END UNIVERSE!”_ the specter screeched, the skull morphing into something demonic and twisted, the hands turning into sharp claws as more Determination rivered out of his eye sockets. _“I WANT TO LEAVE! AND YOU ARE TAKING ME WITH YOU!”_

“...Paps?”

Both Papyruses turned to see Sans staring at them, eyelights wide and quivering. “...you...want to leave...?” he said, sounding small and almost frightened. “...but we haven't finished yet!” He grinned, arms splayed wide. “We'll find 'em, Papyrus! We'll find the others, we'll KILL them, and then we'll FINALLY have enough Determination to match that kid an' DESTROY them! You an' me, remember?” He laughed, his voice breaking and shaky. “...you said it, Papyrus...! We'll work TOGETHER!”

The spectral Papyrus's form shifted back to the normal skull and hands, the Determinaton simmering down a little. _“...yes...”_ he said softly. _“Together...we will do it together...”_ He turned to Papyrus, grinning widely. _“...we'll use HIS power to go to ANOTHER universe, and then we'll have EVERYONE THERE to give us what we need!”_

Papyrus's soul lurched as Sans looked thoughtful. “....oh wow, I hadn't thought of that,” he murmured. “A whole other universe's worth of Monsters...that could work!” He laughed _,_ looking EXCITED at the prospect. “Let's do it, Paps! Let's go to another universe an' kill 'em all! THAT should give us enough power to kill the human for GOOD! Then we'll RESET, everyone will be okay, an' the human will be gone FOREVER! IT'S PERFECT!”

Papyrus shrieked, jerking hard in the spectral Papyrus's blue hold as Sans approached him. “NO!” he howled, thrashing harder. “NO, PLEASE, DON'T DO THIS! PLEASE!” He wailed loudly, fighting against the hold on his soul with everything he had. “PLEASE, SANS, DON'T KILL ME!”

Sans froze for a moment, his eyelights constricting to pinpricks and his expression stricken. The ghostly Papyrus turned to him sharply, his attention wavering.

_“SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”_

Papyrus felt the hold on his soul flicker, and used every ounce of strength he had to throw the rest of the blue magic off, collapsing in the snow and FORCING HIMSELF OUT.

OUT of their presence.

OUT of this universe.

OUT

OF

EVERYTHING

.

.

.

.

.

He crashed hard against the basement steps, letting out a loud yelp that caused a similar cry of surprise further back in the basement, the sound of a wrench being dropped ringing out before footsteps hurried over.

“Holy—Papyrus, did you fall down the stairs?!” Sans's voice rang out, making Papyrus look up and feel a seizure of panic for a moment before realizing that he was home.

He'd done IT again...whatever IT was.

...and, yes, he did feel like he had fallen down the stairs, as achy as his bones were. He just gave Sans a nod, figuring that would be the easiest answer, before sitting himself up with a wince, looking around to recombobulate himself, and froze when he saw the machine across the basement.

It was half-disassembled into pieces.

“...what....what are you doing?” he asked, standing up and almost collapsing from his nerves being shot. “Why are you taking it apart?!” Sans remained silent, and Papyrus turned to him, seeing a firm, disappointed look on Sans's face.

“...Papyrus...I know you've been usin' the machine,” he said, clenching his hands. “...an' I know that's...why you've been actin' so OFF.”

“Sans, that isn't—“

“Papyrus, you told ME not to lie to you, now YOU do the same!” Sans snapped. “THIS is why I didn't want you involved in th' first place! Knowledge of this stuff messes with ya!”

“YOU know about it!” Papyrus shot back, only to be cowed when Sans shot up and loomed over him, eyelight sparking.

“I NEVER WANTED TO!” Sans roared. “I NEVER WANTED THIS! AND I SURE AS HELL NEVER WANTED MY BROTHER TO BE TANGLED UP IN THIS EITHER!” He didn't notice Papyrus's shaking as HIS fault, his harsh resolution refusing to crack. “I'm takn' it apart, Papyrus, an' I'm DONE with this!”

Papyrus felt that surge of vindictiveness rise again, feeling that, AGAIN, Sans was treating him like a child. “I'll rebuild it myself!” he snapped. “I did it before, and I'll do it again!”

Sans growled. “I'll destroy th' goddamn thing an' burn th' schematics!” he shot back. “You're NOT gonna get involved in this more than you already are!”

“THAT ISN'T FOR YOU TO DECIDE—!”

“GODDAMN IT, PAPYRUS, I'M ONLY DOING WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU!”

Papyrus's eyelights constricted into nothingness as his Sans morphed into a dust-covered version of himself, smiling down at him with a glowing blue and red eyelight.

_“I'm only doing what's best for you.”_

His horror must have shown on his expression because Sans reached out for him, worried. “...Papyrus—“

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Papyrus screamed, throwing out his hands and shoving Sans back from him, his panic making his soul—his body—his EXISTENCE—lurch out and seek safety.

Comfort.

Understanding.

In other words, face-first into a snow drift.

The sharp sting of cold on his face made him jerk upright, scrambling backwards in the snow in a panic, eyelights darting to and fro before landing on—

….Paps.

The orange-hoodied Skeleton stared at him with a slack jaw, a cigarette threatening to drop from between his teeth as he stared at Papyrus from his sentry station, CLEARLY not expecting this. The two Papyruses stared at each other for the longest time before Paps slowly stood up and walked around toward Papyrus.

“...are you okay?”

Papyrus's breath hitched, tears fuzzing his vision before he broke down, sobbing loudly in the snow. Moments later he felt Paps's arms curl around him and hold him tightly, patting his back patiently until he cried himself out and just let them sit there in silence for awhile.

“...do you wanna talk about it?” Paps asked softly, waiting until he felt Papyrus nod into his shoulder. “...then let's head back to my place...you can tell me what happened.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I headcanon the Phantom Papyrus from Dusttale as being a connected thread of Sans's conscience and having some sway over Sans's decisions (most often than naught for the killing since that would earn him enough Determination to have a body again). He can also be a snarky passive-aggressive shit when he needs to be, to bring Sans back from psycho-land.


	7. Meeting Underswap, Take Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit shorter than the standard fare, but it has what ya'll (and Papyrus) need.
> 
> EDIT: Thank you all for your suggestions, but I have a plot (of sorts) planned out for this story, so I'm not taking AU suggestions; even some of my favorite AUs (Mobtale, Playbacktale, etc) aren't making the cut. I'm primarily focusing on AUs that give Papyrus the most dramatic secondary look at himself, and how others treat him. While it IS something of a character study, it's also a story about finding things out about himself and yes, others close to him. It's a Lesson Learned story first and foremost, and a lot of those AUs wouldn't give a message, so much as entertainment. So thank you, but I already have my AUs spanned for this.

Two hours, fifty-four tissues, and half a pack of cigarettes later, Papyrus was slumped back on Paps's couch wondering if this is what death felt like because every other sensation was gone. He was drained completely, cried out, and not bothered about the ashes gathering on the front of his shirt from the spent cigarette still clenched between his teeth.

During that entire time, Paps sat calm, supportive, and comforting through the ordeal of ranting, raving, and sobbing, letting his counterpart get it all out while on standby with the tissues and a lighter on hand. After sitting in silence and making sure Papyrus was okay for a few minutes, he reached over and put a comforting hand on Papyrus's shoulder. “...I wish I wasn't surprised,” he said quietly. “...but that must've been....just terrifying.”

Papyrus weakly reached up and rubbed his face. “...I...can't even describe how terrifying it was...” he replied, pulling the spent cigarette butt from his teeth and dropping it into the ash tray. “I'm...just tired now...just so tired...”

Paps squeezed his shoulder, leaning back against the couch to mirror Papyrus's position. “...it's exhausting...having knowledge like this,” he said quietly. “Whether it deals with time or space....it just...eats at you.” He rubbed his nasal bone. “...but bein' honest, I've never had YOUR problem. This is a class all its own.”

Papyrus clenched his eye sockets shut. “....what...happened to me...?” he asked, sounding like he was asking himself rather than Paps. “...I don't understand, I...I just feel so...different...and not in the good way...” He let out a heavy sigh, his body slumping listlessly. “....like I'm not even me anymore...”

Paps deftly lit one of the remaining cigarettes left in his pack, taking an extra-slow drag as he stared off into space. “....it's not a good feeling,” he said, “...thinkin' you know yourself an' then questioning everything about it...lookin' at different outcomes from different possibilities, answerin' those silly questions like 'what if I had decided to go left instead of right today?', or 'what if I had never met this one person?'. Those questions are answered...an' most of the time, you don't like what the answer is.” He exhaled a sift of smoke, dropping his head on the back of the couch.

“Little things like that...they make ya THINK....an' no matter how smart you are, or how strong you are, no one's ever prepared to know just how...EXPANSIVE reality really is. It's nature to find your niche and stick to it, and ask question you shouldn't know the answers to.” He glanced over at Papyrus. “...and...it's terrifying when you get answers to those questions...and you realize just how badly you never wanted to ask them in th' first place. How badly you just...wanted to be YOU. In YOUR world. Ignorant of everything else.”

Papyrus nodded, his eye sockets stinging from the rawness of his last crying session. “...yes...” he agreed. “...that's exactly what I want...” His voice hitched, covering his face with his hands. “...I...want to be the stupid, ignorant person I was before...I want to go about my day, thinking Sans was lazy, that I stood a chance of being in the Guard, that I was loved and liked by everyone...” He pressed his hands to his eye sockets, his whole frame shaking. “...oh gods, it hurts...!”

“Hey...” Paps curled his arm around Papyrus, pulling him close and patting his back quietly. “...it's alright, buddy...just take deep breaths, okay?” He kept a grounding hand on Papyrus's back as his counterpart did so, and about fifteen deep breaths and exhales later, Papyrus stopped shaking. “...look....I'm not gonna sugarcoat anything or lie, alright? I'm gonna be as straight-forward as I've always been with you.” He polished off his cigarette before rubbing his nasal bone.

“...bein' aware like this blows. Big time. There are days I don't know what hurts more, killin' a human kid or bein' aware of time-space anomalies without any way of escapin' it.” He paused, his arm tightening around Papyrus.

“...I was so fucking jealous when I saw you,” he said quietly. “...here was...a version of myself who was genuinely happy and enthusiastic and innocent...everything I wished I could be...” He stared up at the ceiling, his smile dry and sad. “....I feel like shit...thinkin' I might've had somethin' to do with it...”

“No!” Papyrus exclaimed, looking up. “No, it wasn't you! It was all me!” He hugged Paps tightly. “Please don't blame yourself, please!” It wasn't Paps's fault, he knew. He was always curious about anything that piqued his interest, often to a fault. No one but him was to blame for getting into anything.

“...I didn't even know you existed when I snooped around and found that machine,” he said quietly. “And...I was too caught up in trying to figure things out myself that it didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't in the first place.” He wiped his eye sockets. “...YOU couldn't help it...it was an accident...but I did this to myself...whatever IT is...”

Paps frowned contemplatively. “...yeah...skipping universes isn't exactly normal, even by my standards. Best I can do is go from one point of space to another, but only in MY universe, an' even that has its limits.” He looked at Papyrus. “...you have something...unprecedented....and I'm guessing it's something other Papyruses DON'T have.”

Papyrus looked down at his hands. “...I don't know,” he mumbled. “I can't have been the only Papyrus to go to other universes. I mean, YOU did....and the Swapfells did...”

“....Swapfells?”

“Long story. But...what did I do that they didn't? What do I have that they don't?”

Paps smirked, tucking his arms behind his head. “...million-G question with a billion-G answer,” he replied. “...that's just it, pal...no tellin', because only YOU have it. I'm th' way I am because I can see an' understand th' coding in my universe enough t' go from point A to point B, within reason. Pretty sure it's th' way with your Sans....most of 'em, I'll bet. But you have something different...an' I'm sorry, but I can't help you figure THAT out.”

Papyrus sighed, puling his knees up and curling his arms around his legs. “...do...you at least think I can do...IT, so I can go home?” he inquired quietly. Paps smiled, closing his eye sockets.

“I have every bit of faith in ya,” he replied. “But for now...yer HP is low an' yer magic is shot. You need some rest. Traipsing around like that...it wears at ya.” He stretched out, yawning. “I'll give ya some shortcut pointers after a nap, alright?”

Papyrus nodded, his own eye sockets drooping shut. “...alright,” he replied, shifting to lie on his side on the couch. “....thank you, Paps.”

“No problem, 'Rus.”

* * *

 

It was miraculous that Papyrus was able to apparently sleep through this Sans coming home, exclaiming with glee at Papyrus being there, scolding Paps for not telling him about visitors, and a minor explosion in the kitchen whilst the smaller Skeleton made tacos, but Papyrus woke up feeling tons better and starving.

Sans's tacos were interesting, but a great change of pace from spaghetti; after Papyrus's experience in Horror, he was sure he wouldn't be able to even look at the noodles for a good long while. He ate enough that Sans looked ready to cry from joy before helping with the dishes, not...QUITE feeling ready to go home.

He was sure that Sans was worried; their last encounter hadn't exactly been good or calm, after all. But he felt that he just NEEDED this. A non-threatening environment that he could use to talk about his experiences without 'shortcutting' in a panic, with a good friend who understood.

Well, good FRIENDS. This Sans was proving to be a fine mix of the friendly distraction and the concerned big-brotherliness he needed, and was unperturbed about the whole inter-universal thing. Despite what Paps had said about the accident knocking Sans's mentality back a few years, Sans was observant and concerned about what he DID know, and worked so hard so that Paps would have less to worry about.

“He's always so worried about SOMETHING or the other,” Sans told him during a morning run around Snowdin; as long as Papyrus's legs were, Sans insisted it made him run TWICE as fast to keep up and was therefor good exercise and training. “Everyone else thinks he just had a nervous breakdown and stopped caring. But he cares. And he worries.”

“How can you tell?” Papyrus asked, curious. Sans rolled his bright blue eyelights.

“Because he smokes like a chimney, and he only smokes when he's worried or stressed,” Sans retorted, like it was obvious. “So, like, ALL the time. You know.” He gave Papyrus a knowing look. “Like YOU.”

Papyrus went silent for the rest of the run, having more than enough to think about for the remainder of the day. Even here, this Sans and Papyrus were mutually supportive of the other without outright SAYING anything. Papyrus had the knowledge about the timelines, and Sans knew about Papyrus's worry over it all. They protected the other from unnecessary danger or anxiety while respecting that they had secrets they wished to keep to themselves.

Sans was far from feeble or helpless. While the smaller Skeleton HAD once been a research assistant in the labs with no early training to speak of, he had barreled in with Alphys's help and became incredibly competent through hard work alone. He spoke to Papyrus at length of how he didn't remember much leading up to the accident in the labs, but just remembered that everything was fine...and then it wasn't. And he always hoped that Papyrus would go back to the Royal Guard, even if he knew it was unlikely.

Papyrus caught a hint of jealousy in Sans's voice as he spoke of growing up with the Captain of the Royal Guard as his father and not being at the perceived level of interest as Papyrus was, seeing the older Skeleton with the same expression, emitting the same aura that Papyrus himself felt thinking about how he had never known his father like Sans had.

“....sometimes I wonder...if he would be proud of me NOW, even if I'm a couple decades too late to the party and not as strong as I could be,” Sans said, his bright smile dimming slightly. “Papyrus...he's just been the best...he encourages me to do my best, but also makes me take it easy...and it...HASN'T been easy, since...y'know, I'm sure you've heard...” He tapped the side of his skull.

“Things in the past haven't really been the same...I look at physics, but it's like I'm looking at a language and I know how to pronounce and spell it, but I can't read it anymore. And...sometimes, it makes me sad, hearing about how I had a promising future as a Royal Scientist one day, and it's gone...” His smile brightened. “But y'know what? Seeing Papy cheering me on during practice makes me work twice as hard making something NEW of myself. I might not be able to do much physics anymore, but I'm figuring out so many NEW things I can do, that I don't have TIME to feel sad a lot!”

His eyelights went vaguely star-shaped. “Whether it's learning to cook or building my own furniture or being the best darn sentry I can be, I put my soul into it, and I can't be bad at it! That's what makes the Magnificent Sans so magnificent!” He gave Papyrus a beaming smile.

“Just like I'm sure it's what makes the Great Papyrus so great!”

Papyrus didn't know if it was the words, or the image of the Skeleton saying them, but when he cried, this time it was out of happiness.

And it was just the thing he needed to hear.

* * *

 

Paps had things to say that Papyrus needed to hear too....although they were less wanted. Still, they were just as needed, beginning with,

“You've gotta go home, 'Rus.”

Papyrus quietly played with the end of his scarf, pressing his back further into the wedge of the couch. “...I know,” he replied softly. “...I'm just...scared.” Paps sat next to him, muting Napstaton on TV.

“I know,” he replied back. “...and I know it's not just because you have to have a very uncomfortable conversation with your brother. But...listen, 'Rus...” He reached over, holding Papyrus's shoulder tightly. “...whether you like it or not, shortcuts are a part of your life now...and it's better you just go out there an' control it rather than let it control YOU whenever your emotions get out of hand.”

He paused to fish his pack of cigarettes from his hoodie. “...it was a week after the lab accident that I started shortcutting,” he continued, offering the pack to Papyrus before taking out his lighter. “I went from the hospital to my house because I was homesick, then I panicked and went to Hotlands, nearly fell into a lava pit, and ended up in a broom closet with a panic attack for six hours until a janitor found me.”

Paps took a long drag from his cigarette. “...after another incident where I almost drowned in Waterfall told me that I could either spend the rest of my life in an emotional maelstrom where it would send me to hither and yon...or I could wrangle it and make it my own.” He glanced at Papyrus. “...you've gotta do the same...or chances are, you'll never get home if you get stuck somewhere.”

Papyrus rubbed his nasal bone, polishing off his own cigarette. “...what if...I don't end up home?” he said softly. “What if...I end up somewhere else?”

Paps shrugged. “...then you try again,” he replied simply. “You keep trying...until you're where you belong.” He smiled softly, squeezing Papyrus's shoulder again. “...you can do this, buddy. I believe in you.”

Papyrus smiled back, wiping at his eye sockets before grinding out the rest of his cigarette in the ash tray. “....thank you, Paps,” he said. “...for everything.” He stood up, heaving a heavy sigh. “...it was nice to talk again.”

“Hey, I said you could come talk whenever you wanted,” Paps said, stretching as he stood up too. “And I meant it.”

Papyrus walked outside with Paps, heading into Snowdin forest, both knowing that Papyrus's 'check-points' seemed to be centered around there, stopping when he came to a clearing. “...I hope I can do this...”

“I know you can,” Paps assured as he patted Papyrus's back. “Just remember...it's YOUR power. It might be new, but it's YOURS. And if you get somewhere you aren't supposed to be, you can still try again. Okay?”

Papyrus nodded. “Okay,” he said, flexing his hands tightly and recalling back to the sensations and emotions he felt, of having every fiber of his being pull apart and be sucked away. He thought of his reasons for going, of where he wanted to be.

His universe.

His timeline.

His brother.

His life.

He opened his eye sockets.

And there was darkness.

And gods, was it dark.

Darker...

….yet darker.

 


	8. Meeting the Void

The darkness was so expansive and yet so suffocating; terrifying, yet coating like a safety blanket. The duality of sensations tugged at Papyrus's psyche, making him curl into a ball and beg internally for it to end.

What had gone wrong? Did he manage to shortcut somewhere else entirely? Did he make a bad jump? Did he just plain screw up entirely?

Oh gods, was he dead? That wasn't exactly a reassuring thought. Then again, if he had to guess what death was like, it would be like this. Much better than being a specter made of dust and Determination, anyway...it still wasn't comforting. None of this was comforting. Not this new power, not this location, not the prospect that he could be dead or stuck or anything.

Just...nothing.

Papyrus was in his little ball of nothingness for what seemed like forever before he became aware of a presence. It was...vague...like a brush of the first autumn wind that came and went—cold, but oddly comforting. Papyrus slowly uncurled, lifting his head although dreading seeing the endless abyss of this place, and was surprised to see little lights and sparks floating around like fireflies, giving him a sense of space and direction.

The sight WAS comforting, and he unfurled further to look around, trying to orient himself in the nothingness. As though reading his thoughts, a solidness appeared under his feet, giving him something to stand on and ground himself with. Papyrus curled his arms around himself, looking from side to side with curiosity and wariness, wondering where the presence from before went to.

“...hello...?” he called out softly, his voice vanishing quickly into the darkness before him. “....is....is there anyone else here? …........anyone.....?”

And the presence returned, all around him and scattered. Papyrus tucked his arms around himself tighter, feeling the scattered pieces of the presence compress into something more solid in front of him...and then it began to actually take a visual form.

It seemed to be a cluster of duality; the stark blackness of a body of sorts against the stark whiteness of a face and hands; something elegant yet ungainly, terrifying, yet beautiful. Its form seemed to flicker like static before settling before Papyrus, grounding itself on the same nonexistent solidness that Papyrus 'stood' on and looking Papyrus on at eye level so Papyrus could get a clear view.

If Papyrus was being generous, he would say this creature before him is—or once was—a Skeleton. The skull was fully-intact, but the features seemed melded and unnaturally smoothed, a soft, toothless smile stretched across its face. Its eye sockets were blacker than the darkness around them, with the right one drooped down, as though it had half-melted and decided to stop. Despite the blankness of the eye sockets, Papyrus felt no malice or coldness from them, only a curious intrigue.

“....hello,” he found himself saying, his hands wringing tightly together, hard enough to grate bone against bone. “....I...I'm...”

“....Papyrus....”

Papyrus nearly jumped when it spoke to him with a deep, echoing voice that was both breathy and bone-rattling at the same time. His hands shook harder at being addressed, the grating getting worse until he felt a firm, cold touch upon them, glancing down and seeing a pair of delicate, elegant bony hands encasing his own.

“....you will damage your hands this way...” it—he?—said, gently prying Papyrus's hands apart with his own. “...it is...a most detrimental habit....best not exacerbate it now...” His hands folded neatly over Papyrus's, and Papyrus could see actual holes carved out of the metacarpals of his hands. “...a scientist's hands are his truest tools...”

Papyrus resisted the urge to take his hands back and shove them into his pockets. “...I'm...no scientist,” he replied, keeping his eyelights from staring at either the other's face or hands, deeming it too strange and too rude to do so. “...not in the least...”

“...oh, but that is not true...” the other replied with such conviction that Papyrus looked up and saw him staring with—somehow—glowing blackness in his eye sockets. “...your mind is agile and strong....your curiosity pulls you by a leash to its own whims...you test the limits of yourself and of your creations, furthering them, BETTERING them....and when you fail...you pick yourself up and begin again...” His hands clasped around Papyrus's softly before letting go. “...and already, with just the barest knowledge and no training...you have created so much...it is quite astounding, Papyrus...”

Papyrus flexed his hands, settling on wringing them into the hoodie on loan from Paps to avoid grinding them again. “...you know who I am?” he asked tentatively. The other nodded, folding his hands behind his back. “...I don't know you, though.”

“...I am...not surprised...” His already halted speech seemed to be even more hesitant. “...from your standing in the universe....it was very...VERY unlikely that we would ever meet...” He lifted his head, and Papyrus's eyelights dilated when several screens materialized mid-air around the blackness, showing flashing scenes from random points of his life.

“...what IS this?” he demanded quietly, flicking his eyelights between the screens. “How did...what is....” His hands tightened into the hoodie. “...who ARE you?”

The other turned on heel—hidden beneath a shapeless black cloak—and began 'walking' down a path that suddenly appeared within the blackness, prompting Papyrus to follow.

“...I am...many things...” he said, gesturing with one hand here and there as he spoke. “...in some universes...I am a creator...in some, I am a brother....in others, a lover. ...I am cruel or kind...benevolent or malevolent....a bringer of life...and...OR...death...” He paused, resting his hand atop a screen to his side. On it there was an adult Skeleton who was holding a swaddled baby bones in his arms as a toddler Skeleton clung to him tightly.

“...in YOUR universe, Papyrus...I am a father...”

Papyrus stared at the screen, recognizing the toddler as Sans and the baby bones as himself; the adult Skeleton was a complete mystery to him, though looking between the screen and the being in front of him, he could see they had the same long, elegant hands and gentle, curious expressions. He took a step back, his hands shaking. “...you...you're my...?” he stammered, the question fading out, unable to be completed.

The other nodded quietly. “....I am....” he replied. “...in your universe, anyway...” He looked fondly on the screen, seeing a fuller, younger Skeleton lovingly dote on two baby bones. “...I do not claim to be a great father....I made...many mistakes....”

Papyrus scrambled to find some memory, bring up ANYTHING that seemed familiar to this being before him...and he came up with nothing. “...I...don't remember you,” he stated, rubbing his temples. “...not in the least...”

The other sighed, folding his hands behind his back. “...it is to be expected...” he replied softly. “...the mistakes I made have pulled me from your universe...they have taken nearly every shred of evidence that I existed...including your memory of me...” He paused before stepping up to Papyrus, raising one hand and resting his phalanges on Papyrus's skull. “...but it does not mean that it did not happen...”

Papyrus flinched violently when his mind was bombarded with secondhand memories, of learning to walk, talk, and play with someone his young, infantile mind could only refer to as 'Daddy'. All the way up to childhood, even when 'Daddy' was scarce and big brother Sans was his primary caretaker, he could only feel joy upon seeing his 'Daddy' and cherish the little time spent with the older Skeleton...

...until he simply wasn't there anymore.

Papyrus jerked back, rubbing his aching head and staring warily at the other before him, whose hand remained extended as though wishing for more contact before it lowered and tucked itself back.

“...my work detailed utilizing the Void and everything it contained...” the other spoke, his skull tipping to the side as he glanced around at the nothingness. “...something that failed....miserably so....” He sighed. “...tampering with it as I did...I deserved nothing less....I was erased from my universe and made to be here.....where I saw the answer to my every inquiry....but no way to share it....” His smile widened mirthlessly. “...the ultimate joke, is it not...?”

The screens around them flickered before they went out one by one, only the screen beside them remaining. “...I am nothing more than static in the universal coding...a speck within the nexus of time, space, reality, and illusion...and only my soul keeps me from joining the nothingness entirely.”

Papyrus felt coldness seep into his bones, curling his arms around himself. “...what...even IS this place?” he asked. “It feels.....I dunno, wrong...but natural, I...” He trailed off, unable to properly describe what he was experiencing.

“...this, my dear Papyrus, is the Void...” the other answered, gesturing around. “...the nexus of the universe...of ALL universes, actually....the area between time and space, and the glue that binds both together at the same time...” He gave Papyrus a comforting smile. “...it is the bridge between your 'shortcuts'....and Sans's as well, though he cannot utilize it the way you can...”

Papyrus shifted a little. “...about that...” he murmured. “...I know that Sans can...'shortcut' from one place to another...but I can't do that...well, not LIKE that...why?”

The other rolled his shoulders, his posture something akin to what Papyrus himself poised as 'lecture mode'. “....Sans experienced something long ago that made him aware of the Void...” he began. “...in a way...he is able to take the universal coding and displace himself within that coding...but the coding has to go somewhere...and that is HERE...” He gestured with one hand aimlessly.

“....it is...much like seeing a wall of brick and making it so one would pass through it like water...the wall is still there, but it was changed for a more...convenient passing...” He glanced at Papyrus. “...you, on the other hand...are able to traverse 'walls' entirely to enter completely different...'buildings', as it were...a feat that is most unorthodox indeed...”

“Yes, but HOW?” Papyrus demanded, pacing around and flexing his hands tightly to keep from gesturing with them as he often did when stressed. “I don't understand! I just...it's frightening...and I hate it when it happens, when I can't CONTROL it!”

The other's expression was pitying. “...understandable...” he murmured. “...but also explainable...” He hesitated before reaching out and taking one of Papyrus's hands in both of his own, holding it tightly. “...during his observations...that is ALL Sans has done...he has only observed...he has not had the empathetic curiosity as you have with yourself from other universes...and therein lies the answer...”

“...I don't get it.”

The other laughed softly, reaching out and lightly touching Papyrus's face with one hand. “...dear child...don't you see...?....you are able to go to these places....because you feel yourself already there...” His other hand squeezed Papyrus's hand. “...because you have felt the bond you have with yourself in other universes...it has already left you a way to be there...” He shrugged a little. “...only...with your state of mind...it can take you to places that corresponds with the frequency your soul puts out....when you are in anger or distress, it takes you to such a place...when you desire comfort...it takes you there as well...”

Papyrus frowned, staring at his hand that was enveloped in the other's. “...but they...how can I feel a bond with someone I never knew existed? It doesn't make sense.”

“...it makes perfect sense, when you think about it...” The other quietly stepped back, gesturing to the screen next to him and making it flicker between scenes with Papyrus interacting with other universes. “...the multiverse theory simply states that one is a part of infinite possibilities and circumstances...and that is just it, you see....possibility and circumstance...”

The screen next to him flashed to an image of Paps. “...this was a possibility, had you been in the Royal Guard...” It changed to Fell. “...this, if the Underground was more bloodthirsty and cruel...” To Swapfell. “...a mix of the previous two, and an outcome...and so on...” His smile was almost amused. “....notice, Papyrus...that I said 'possibility' and 'circumstance'...nothing else is different...because no matter what the possibility or circumstance...despite everything....” He reached out and touched Papyrus's chest over his soul.

“...it's still you...”

 Papyrus stared at the screen, seeing the different Papyruses he had interacted with and feeling a sense of familiarity and kin with them.  Because they WERE him.  And he was THEM.

If he had been in the Royal Guard, he could have been Paps.

If the Underground had been crueler, he could have been Fell.

He could have been ANY of them, in ANY other circumstance...even Paps said if he hadn't been in the Guard, he could have been Papyrus. It was all the same.

“...the universes may change...but there are constants that never change...” The screen next to the other flickered to the image of Papyrus back in Snowdin, extending a hand to Frisk in friendship. “...you are still you...and things you learn about yourself will not change that...it only gives you a chance to grow, to become more aware...”

His free hand reached up, touching Papyrus's face gently. “...no creature is so stagnant that it cannot change...that it cannot adapt to the circumstances of birth or the changes in life...and although some things may not be good or flattering...well....even those faults are a part of you...they still make you, you...” He paused before leaning forward, pressing his toothless smile against Papyrus's skull.

“...what truly matters are your choices...how you choose to live...and you have done so wonderfully, Papyrus...you have made me so proud, my smart, kind child....and times of doubt, anger, or fear will not change that...”

Papyrus sniffled, reaching up to rub at his eye sockets. “...you don't think...it makes me...?”

“...no, no, of course not...a few bad days does not make you a bad person...” The elder Skeleton took Papyrus's hands in his own tightly. “...you just needed to be reminded of that...”

Papyrus nodded quietly. “Thank you,” he said, smiling softly before looking around a little. “...this place, though...can't you...?”

“...no, Papyrus...” he replied gently. “...I do not exist in any universe...my place is here, in the nexus...in the Void...” He squeezed Papyrus's hands before letting go. “...and I will watch over you and Sans for as long as I am able...” He stepped back quietly. “...but for now...you need to return home...Sans is waiting for you...”

Papyrus sighed, already dreading the conversation to come. “...I know,” he said. “...thank you...um....?”

The other Skeleton sighed. “...it will do no good to grace me with a name...” he replied. “...I am...beyond the need for one...but whatever you decide to call me, I will accept...” He paused, glancing at the screen, which was playing over a scene of Papyrus walking home from the shops with Sans. “...I...do ask you...please, Papyrus...” His hands twitched before they wrung together, just as he had prevented Papyrus from doing earlier. “...do not mention me to Sans...it would...simply do no good...”

Papyrus hesitated for a moment before nodding. “...alright,” he said. “I won't...but...will I be able to see you again?”

“...I advise against it...” the other replied. “...this place...is not a PLACE...and unlike me, you BELONG somewhere...” His morose smile brightened somewhat. “...but know that I WILL be looking out for you...you and Sans both...my wonderful boys...” An ink-colored tear fell down his stark white face. “...take care of each other, Papyrus...”

Papyrus stayed quiet for a moment before reaching out and curling his arms around the other, not caring that it felt like hugging a semi-corporeal mass rather than a person. “I don't care if it's ill-advised!” he cried, holding the other tightly. “I'll come back...! I won't let you be lonely, not if I can help it!” He squeezed tightly before letting go, giving him a bright smile. “I'll even bring some of my food! I've gotten much better at cooking!”

The elder Skeleton was silent for a moment before smiling, reaching up to rub at his eye sockets with a shaking hand. “...you're...such a good boy, Papyrus...” he murmured. “...and anyone who knows you...is lucky to have you...” He reached out, touching above Papyrus's soul. “...goodbye, Papyrus...”

Papyrus was thrown out of the darkness.

And into the light.

Naturally, face-first into snow.

He groaned, sitting up and wiping his face free of snow, looking around to see he had landed in his backyard again. At least he felt like he could move this time. He stood up and brushed his clothes free of snow before taking a deep breath and heading inside.

The house was empty, and so was the basement. Papyrus winced when he found what remained of the machine bashed to pieces, as though Sans had lost his temper SPECTACULARLY, which Papyrus no doubt thought what happened. He walked back upstairs, wishing his phone hadn't gotten lost mid-shortcut, and debated between waiting for Sans and going out to search for him when the front door opened and Sans walked in, swaying slightly like he had been—

Papyrus sighed, feeling a twinge of exasperation, hurt, and guilt; Sans had promised years ago that he would quit drinking and had done so for so long, and their fight...oh gods...

He hurried over, dropping to his knees and hugging Sans tightly. He felt his brother freeze in his hold, but he just held on tighter. “I'm sorry, Sans...” he said, sniffling. “I'm sorry...!”

Slowly, he felt Sans's arms raise and curl around him. “...didn't...wanna put ya through that...” Sans slurred. “...didn't...want you to suffer like I did....just...wanted t'be a good brother...”

“You ARE a good brother, Sans,” Papyrus said firmly. “And I'm grateful for everything you've done...everything you did, you did because you wanted what was best for me. You did well enough that I can stand on my own...but that doesn't mean I don't need my big brother too.” He patted Sans's head. “...we're...overdue for a real talk, aren't we?”

Sans nodded into Papyrus's shoulder. “...don't wanna, though...”

“Neither do I,” Papyrus replied. “But we have to.”

“...I'mma need a couple more drinks fer that...”

“And I need a cigarette.”

“Ditto.” Pause. “What the fu—you SMOKE!?”

“And I have a high alcohol tolerance.”

“....damn, we really DO need to talk....”

 


	9. Meeting Halfway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's incredibly short for as long as I've worked on it, but I figured it to be a filler chapter anyway. The story is winding down as it is with only a handful of chapters to go, so they'll run the gamut of short to long.

It was long into the wee hours of the morning when there was finally silence in the house. Sans and Papyrus sat back on the couch, finally having run out of things to tell one another. Unabashedly—albeit with twinges of personal shames—Sans had an empty bottle of liquor in his hand and Papyrus had almost worked his way through a pack of cigarettes.

Sans had admitted that he frequently broke his promise to drink less, especially when Reset moments got too real for him. Papyrus had admitted that he picked up smoking when he was seventeen after Doggo offered him one. It was one of the first things in a long line of confessions toward one another, and not everything was better, or worse, than that initial first talk.

After telling Sans about his ability to shortcut through entire universes, Papyrus had no qualms about letting Sans pile on a few more drinks on top of what had been knocked back at Grillby's. His poor older brother looked close to fainting from that revelation as it was. Papyrus finished telling Sans about his leaps, leaving out his pass through the Void as promised, leaning back on the couch and rubbing his eye sockets.

“.......it was...just all too much, happening too soon...” he mumbled, grinding out the rest of his cigarette. His nerves were numb enough as it was. “I didn't know how to process everything...at least, not without lashing out.” He stared up at the ceiling, his body limply slumping back. “...you hurt me, Sans. You hurt me in a way I never thought possible. It wasn't about you not sharing all of that information with me...it was keeping me young and ignorant like that...keeping me from discovering myself...”

Sans pressed his hands to his face, his frame shaking softly. “...I know...” he mumbled. “I know I know I know...” His hands dropped from his face, landing uselessly on the couch cushion. “...Pap...when you experience what I have...SEE what I have...and..........and even give into fatalism as I have....you'll find that...what ever tiny thing you feel you have control of...you want to hold on tight and never let go...” His eyelights flickered over to Papyrus, his eye sockets wet.

“...I've...seen pockets and flickers of different ways you might have turned out...and they scared me...I just...I thought that if I could keep you happy...keep you out of messes like that....then things would be okay...” He sniffled, tears dripping down his cheekbones. “...but...it's never okay, is it...? Somehow....some WAY....I keep messing up...”

Papyrus flexed his hands into the cushion, his jaw tightening. “...I'm not yours to mess up, Sans,” he replied softly. “...I can mess up my own life, thank you very much. The past few weeks is just proof of that.” He paused before reaching out and resting a hand on Sans's shoulder. “...Sans...you've raised me well....well enough that I'm able to take rejection, to make good decisions, as long as I have options open for me. I didn't need to be babied all my life, Sans....and I still don't now.”

Sans sighed, reaching up to wipe at his eye sockets. “...I know...” he said quietly. “...I'm sorry, Paps....I....I didn't want you getting hurt....I didn't want you unhappy....”

Papyrus nodded to himself. “I know, Sans,” he said, squeezing Sans's shoulder. “...but whatever you saw...didn't mean it would guarantee what would happen to ME. I could have been happy as an engineer, couldn't I? Or as a Guardsman. Or even a sentry, if I was just given a straight answer.” He leaned his head back against the back of the couch. “I can handle disappointment, Sans. Really, I can. But I couldn't handle you or Undyne lying to me for so long...and I just...blew up.”

“I deserved it,” Sans mumbled. “...dunno why I got mad when I got caught...”

“I know why. And I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have said that, not after everything you've done for me.”

There were a few moment of silence.

“...back...before this...” Sans said cautiously, shifting a little, “...you...looked afraid of me...” He glanced at Papyrus. “...what happened?”

Papyrus froze at the memory, a shudder running up his spine. “...I...didn't fall down the stairs,” he replied. “I had...appeared back home, and....and I had just gotten back from a universe where.....w...where...” He broke off, his hand tightening hard around Sans's shoulder. “...you...said you...knew what was best for me......and....”

“Stop,” Sans said thickly, his eyelights pinpricked. “...you don't have to tell me...it's...I get it....” He reached up and pried Papyrus's clenched hand from his shoulder. “...I understand...there are some universes that.....that I can't talk about either...” He squeezed Papyrus's hand. “....I get it.”

Papyrus sighed, nodding. “...thank you,” he said. He glanced out the window, seeing the barest hint of light glowing through the curtains. “....I think we both need sleep.”

Sans snorted, laughing mirthlessly. “...oh man....dredging up all that history won't let me have any sleep...” he muttered. “...but I can do what I always do...live with it until I pass out, usually at work—“

“NO.” Papyrus gave Sans a firm look. “...no more of that, Sans. I mean it.” He pulled Sans to him in a tight hug. “...you need to take care of yourself, Sans. You can still care about me...but I can take care of myself. So you focus on YOU now.”

“...Paps, I can't—“

“You CAN. I insist on it.”

Sans laughed weakly, going limp in Papyrus's hold. “...well, if you INSIST...” He yawned, his eyelights going dim. “...I'll try.”

Papyrus hugged him tightly. “That's all I ask.” He stood up, carrying his brother upstairs to his bedroom, settling him down. “And I insist you have good dreams.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Sans mumbled, tucking the sheet around himself. Papyrus patted Sans's shoulder before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

He thought he'd feel better after talking with Sans.

But he was only partially right.

Papyrus walked to his own room, pulling out the jacket he was working on and sat down on his floor, tugging his hidden ash tray and cigarettes from under his dresser, and quietly set himself to finishing it at last.

 

 


	10. Meeting the Nightmares

As open as things had been between him and Sans, Papyrus still felt like there was something being left unsaid between them, something left unshared. And it made Papyrus feel like he was just within reach of truly understanding his brother, but it still wasn't grasping. Sans still had something to hide.

Well, it wasn't like he didn't either, although he had given HIM the promise to not mention him to Sans before this talk even happened...but then Papyrus sat down and really thought about it. He might have given the cliffnotes version of his excursions in the other universes, but those select few...just thinking about them was terrifying. But it wasn't something he wanted to suffer through alone.

His worst sensation in those universes was being alone...he didn't want to keep being alone in this. He wanted to share those memories, as painful as they were, even the one that wasn't even really his, but really...might as well have been.

Papyrus mulled it over, unable to sleep even if he tried, until he came to a decision whilst making coffee one morning. It was early, but Sans was already waking up, something Papyrus was happy for. Sans had been getting more REAL sleep, and Papyrus was actively encouraging it, especially since it seemed to legitimately settle Sans down. Papyrus only cursed his inability to maintain a normal circadian rhythm, a problem he'd had since before he could remember.

He absently wondered if it was because of a unique quirk or a legitimate medical reason for a moment before Sans came downstairs, still looking bleary from sleep. He smiled a little to dampen his nervousness, making up two cups of coffee before walking them over to the table, where Sans was slumped over. “You look well,” Papyrus said, setting the cup down in front of his brother.

Sans snorted, lifting his head before sipping the coffee. “It's a conspiracy, I tells ya,” he muttered, leaning his head on his free hand. “But you're up even earlier than I am. Wasn't last night one of your sleep nights?”

Papyrus shook his head, contemplating his own coffee. “...it's become a bit more skewed since I found out my own shortcuts,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I don't feel really tired unless I actually use it.”

“...have you?” Sans asked almost delicately. Papyrus shook his head again.

“No,” he answered honestly, his hands tightening around the cup. “...I haven't felt...confident in it.” He sighed. “It's not like practicing going from one side of the room to the other like you can...I'd have to go to an entirely different place...and sometimes I fear of where I'll end up.”

Sans nodded. “Understandable,” he replied. “Might drop right into someone's bathtub, right?” His attempt at a joke fell flat as Papyrus's aura grew more somber.

“...no,” Papyrus said quietly, his hands shaking softly. “...I fear...I'll end up...back at the worst one....” He exhaled shakily. “...the...the one where...”

“Paps, you don't hafta tell me—“

“Yes, I DO.” Papyrus forced his hands to unclench before they shattered his coffee cup, sitting back and pressing his palms to the table. “...I...I was so alone in those universes...” he stammered, his bones feeling cold. “...even...when you were there.......another you...a...another...another that...”

“Papyrus, don't—“

“Sans, I don't want to relive that alone!” Papyrus cried, clenching his hands into fists. “I keep SEEING it...RELIVING what y—he did...!” He buried his face in his hands, his whole frame shaking. “...'it's what's best for you', he said...and.....he believed it...even....even if it WASN'T...” He wiped at his face with his sleeve. “I'm not a baby bones, Sans...b...but I can't do this alone...I can't...I can't I can't I cant'...”

Sans hurried out of his chair and over to Papyrus, hugging him tightly. “Paps, please, don't cry,” he begged quietly, his own eye sockets welling up with tears. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I wasn't even thinking about that...!”

“I WAS!” Papyrus replied, hugging Sans back. “...I was thinking about how alone and scared YOU were.....how alone and scared you ARE, STILL.” He sniffled, wiping at his eye sockets. “...whether you like it or not, I'm a part of this now too...and I don't want you to have to suffer alone anymore.”

The two sat in silence for a good while before Sans sighed heavily, wiping at his eye sockets. “....what is it ya wanna know, Paps?” he asked.

Papyrus was quiet for a moment before sitting back. “...you said you saw a universe you hated more than any...” he said delicately. “...and...I'll....I'll share mine if you share yours. So you don't have to suffer alone.”

Sans flinched slightly, shaking. “...Paps...it's....it's not a good universe...” he replied. “...it's...it's honestly bad....and I'd rather face a bad run than go back to it...”

“Then you don't have to,” Papyrus said. “...Tell me the code. I'll see it myself.”

Sans shook slightly. “...I don't want you to see it...”

“And I don't want you to see MY worst one....but I will...and I'll never bring it up again, I promise.”

The two sat quietly before Sans gave a shaky nod. “....alright,” he said. “....just...just please....don't take it to heart, Papyrus, please...promise me that.”

Papyrus nodded. “...I promise,” he said, and he swapped out the codes with Sans. “...I hope you don't mind, but....I went ahead and somewhat rebuilt the machine.”

“I know,” Sans said, smiling a little. “...I figured I'd let ya....even if you don't really need it anymore...”

“It's something YOU made, Sans,” Papyrus said. “You wanted to build it for a reason...don't let me stop you from that.” He looked down at the code written down. “...Sans...be safe, alright?”

Sans nodded, flexing his phalanges into the paper in his own hand. “...you too,” he said.

Papyrus stepped back, focusing on the code in his hand until he could feel the PULL—

And he was gone.

* * *

 

He could feel it was different here, but not SO different. He would peg this as a one or two out of ten on the differential scale, and wondered what would make this place Sans's worst nightmare.

Papyrus kept to the shadows, not wanting to startle anyone here with his presence, and paused when he saw an image of himself walking down the street with a bag of groceries, his expression somber though it would shift to cheerfulness when someone said hello.

It was a bit odd, looking closer; the Monsters that greeted him seemed to look on in almost pity whenever his back was turned, and this Papyrus's expression seemed to fall as soon as he was alone. It was almost like this Papyrus wasn't happy in the least with life and was only putting on a face for everyone. Papyrus followed his doppleganger to the house, which was void of bright colorful lights and garnish and had only one mailbox in front.

Papyrus had a horrible thought; what if this was a universe where Sans wasn't....in the picture? The very idea was just horrible to think about, and wondered if he should break from the background to comfort his other self when movement in his peripheral made him turn and see Sans walking up the street, hands in his pockets and looking almost emotionless.

This was confusing. What was going on? He crept closer as this Sans walked into the house, sliding up to the window to listen and hear in.

This Papyrus was quietly putting things away, visibly tensing when the door opened and closed. “...I...went shopping, Sans...” he said quietly. “We were out of a few things.”

Sans grunted in reply, shaking the snow off of his jacket. “How much didja spend?” he asked gruffly. His brother wrung his hands quietly.

“...it was less than thirty g,” he said.

Sans sighed, massaging his nasal bone. “That's cuttin' it close, Papyrus,” he muttered. “Next time, let me KNOW and I'll make a list.”

This Papyrus's hands wrung tighter, and Papyrus could hear the bones grating together. “...alright...but I...we were out, and—“

“Look, when YOU start bringin' in the g, YOU can go shopping!” Sans snapped. “It's bad enough I'm practically payin' yer way when yer a grown adult, but I don't need you spendin' more than I actually make!”

His brother flinched back, almost curling in on himself. “...I'm sorry, Sans...” he murmured. “...but there are no full-time openings for the sentries right now—“

“Then get it through yer head that Undyne's not gonna make you a Guardsman!” Sans replied. “It's not gonna happen. Find a REAL job an' spare yourself the embarrassment. And mine,” he added darkly, heading upstairs.

This Papyrus appeared to hold back tears as he stepped out of the kitchen, his eyelights oddly hopeful. “....Brother, do you....want to go calibrate puzzles with me?”

Sans paused halfway up the stairs, his hand clenching into the banister. “Why would I waste my time with that?” he asked bitterly. “I'm takin' a shower an' goin' to Grillby's.”

“...ah...but....I made—“

“Spaghetti. I know. What you ALWAYS make. And it's still inedible. Which is why I'm goin' to Grillby's. Do me a favor an' grow the hell up while I'm gone.” He headed up to the bathroom, the door shutting hard, leaving his brother to stand in the middle of the room.

“.....it's okay....” he murmured to himself, his frame shaking. “It's okay it's okay it's okay....he's just tired...” He went back into the kitchen, mechanically making everything sparkling clean. “....when I'm a Guardsman, I'll take care of HIM...it's okay it's okay...it's...it's okay...okay...”

He buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows on the counter, his very soul defeated with only the barest of hope left shining.

Papyrus felt as though a piece of himself was dying, watching this. There was no love in that house, nothing but apathetic bitterness from Sans.

It was a universe where Sans never loved him.

Papyrus didn't want to see anymore. The mere fact that THIS was Sans's worst universe spoke volumes, and he was feeling enough secondhand pain as it was. He was in physical soul PAIN, and just from WATCHING. He ducked down against the side of the house, covering his face with his hands, and thinking of HOME, of the SURFACE.

Of SANS.

In any case, he was getting better at his landings. He managed to make it to the sofa and catch his bearings in record time. It still didn't make him feel any better, lying back on the sofa thinking about what he saw.

It had just been a short view, but to imagine that every moment of every DAY....it was unbearable. He couldn't even contemplate it. He didn't WANT to.

Papyrus ran a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh, feeling exhausted already and ready to take a nap, which he sort of did before hearing the basement door open and close.

Sans walked over to the sofa and sat back on it on top of Papyrus's legs. Papyrus glanced down, seeing Sans's paled bones and felt a twinge of guilt for having suggested it. “....Sans—“

“Fuckin' hell,” Sans swore softly, staring up at the ceiling. “...how....could I have ever contemplate it getting' THAT bad that I'd....” His hands clenched tightly. “...an'...what I DID to you....oh GODS—“

Papyrus rested his arm over his eye sockets, shaking softly. “...Sans...it wasn't just...THAT Sans that makes that universe terrifying,” he replied. “...it's what I had become that...I...I was so far from myself that...” He swallowed hard. “...I was something evil, Sans...and I was USING you...”

He broke off, letting out a defeated sigh. Sans mirrored him, and the two of them sat in silence for awhile, well until the sun went down.

“...would you think any less of me if I got a drink?”

“Sans, for what I just showed you, I'll BUY you the drink.”

Sans snorted softly, making no move to get up. “....we're a big fuckin' mess, arent we?” he asked softly. “It's just...” He gestured helplessly, sighing. “...no use tryin' for happiness, is there?”

Papyrus took his arm off his face, frowning. “...Sans...” He sat up, reaching out and hugging Sans to him. “...there IS use. We CAN be happy. And you won't ever have to suffer this alone again.”

Sans hugged Papyrus back, sniffling to hold back tears. “....how'd I ever get such a great brother?” he queried, smiling.

“Simple,” Papyrus replied matter-of-factly, “I'm the Great Papyrus. My Greatness just rubbed off on you.” He leaned back, standing up and setting Sans down. “But I was serious, Sans. I'll buy you that drink. Go get your coat.”

Sans smiled, nodding and heading off to fetch his coat as Papyrus searched around for his boots.

As he laced them up, he thought, Sans had been wrong.

All this time, HE'D been the lucky one to have such a great big brother.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I would think that Sans's worst universe to see would be the Bad Brother AU. At least in Dust and Murder universes, it's implied that Sans still loves his brother; in Bad Brother, there IS no love.


	11. Meeting Halfway, Take Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With special guest stars, The Fell Brothers!

Monsters (and a few local human regulars) could only stare at the bar of Grillby's restaurant in a sense of quiet shock at the sight of both Skeleton brothers surrounded by appetizers and empty drink bottles, alternating between laughter and crying. In between bouts of either, Grillby would stop by, take another order, and walk off, looking just as mildly confused as most anyone else in the place.

Sans set down his tumbler, his face flushed blue and eyelights hazy from drunkenness. “....jeeze, Pap....you weren't kiddin', you really CAN handle yer booze....”

Papyrus, who had been at this as long as Sans had and barely looked buzzed, sipped from his own glass with a shrug. “You've said that three times already, Sans,” he replied. “And that should be our cutoff cue.” He waved Grillby over for the bill, draining the rest of his glass quickly.

Sans let out a heavy sigh, slumping forward on the bar. “....not ready t'go home yet...” he mumbled.

“Sans, you can barely keep yourself upright,” Papyrus replied, papping his brother's back. Sans mumbled again resting his head on his arms.

“........remember......a long time ago....when you would...y'know......come an' get me like this?” he said quietly, his expression going morose. “...I'd be drunk off my coccyx, an' Grillby would call ya....an' you'd take me home.” His eye sockets went damp. “...I...kinda just realized that every time ya did....ya never complained...not once. Y'just...took me home...put me t'bed.....an' never speak of it.” His eyelights quivered slightly. “...why?”

Papyrus rubbed his nasal bone, grinding out the last cigarette he had in his pack. “...because you were hurting, Sans,” he replied softly. “...I knew you were hurting. I saw pain in your smile...and you kept apologizing....and back then, I didn't realize what you were apologizing FOR.” He patted his Sans's skull. “But it didn't matter. And I knew that harping on you for your problem wouldn't help it. So...I tried to do what I could to actually help. And since you stopped late-night binging, I thought that somehow...I had.”

Sans rubbed his eye sockets, letting out a mirthless snort. “....I stopped because...durin' one of th' resets.....durin' a time when I just didn't care.......” His voice hitched, sounding haunted. “...I was....at th' bar when....IT happened.”

Papyrus didn't have to ask what IT was. IT was always the same thing, and something that Sans only said once before he couldn't speak of it anymore.

“....by th' time I realized what happened.....I......I just....” His eye sockets flooded over. “....I....I was getting' drunk at a bar.......knowin' my little brother was..........an' for just a MOMENT, I DIDN'T CARE!” He buried his face in his arms, his body shaking. “What kinda person AM I...!?” He let out a muffled sob, shaking his head. “I was.....I was so DISGUSTED......I hated myself.......I couldn't do that shit anymore, I couldn't......”

Papyrus curled his arm around Sans. “Shh, it's alright, Sans...” he shushed. “It's alright....I don't care, Sans...I don't care.” He felt Sans shake with sobs. “I don't blame you, brother....you're strong having dealt with it that long.” He held Sans to him until the shaking subsided, and let out a small sigh of affectionate exasperation when he heard soft snoring. “...you get some sleep now, Sans...you deserve it.”

He hoisted Sans up to carry him out, glancing over at Grillby. “...put it on my tab.”

And with that, he carried Sans home, feeling as though the last weight was lifted from his shoulders.

* * *

 

Papyrus sat at the kitchen table, nursing his cup of coffee as Sans got ready for work. “Are you certain you're fine to work, Sans?” he asked quietly. Sans shrugged, giving him a grin.

“I'm used to sleepin' off hangovers,” he replied. “I'll run by Grillby's before work.”

Papyrus grimaced slightly. “Really, Sans? Grease this early?”

“Hey, why do ya think I go there all th' time?” Sans shoved his wallet into his pocket. “Greasy food is perfect for hangovers, didn't ya know?”

“...I wouldn't know.”

Sans snorted, grabbing his to-go thermos of coffee. “Lucky ass, not getting' hangovers,” he muttered. “I'll call at lunch time, alright?”

“Alright. Have a good day, Sans.”

Papyrus at back, sighing softly as he thought about the email from Alphys up in the computer in his room, promising that she would look into anything he could try out for in the engineering department of her workplace. He hated how most everything concerning the human world required a piece of paper to show what one knew rather than experience or skill.

Although Sans was a janitor at Frisk's school, he could go back to being a physicist if he so wanted. Papyrus knew he still had the credentials and title put on the backburner; he had even seen Sans's old lab ID card, _Dr. Sans Serif_ in clear print and everything. Papyrus once thought having 'Guardsman Papyrus' as a title would be great, but that old dream of his was beginning to sting less and less.

He couldn't help but think of working in a lab, creating things with his own hands, or his own design. He would be making new friends, expanding his experience, and indulging in that NEWNESS of himself. It was rather exiting to think about.

He drained his coffee cup and washed it out in the sink, looking around the empty house for a beat before walking up to his room and pulling a bag from the back of his closet. He sighed, holding it to him before standing back and focusing hard—

—and vanished.

Papyrus looked around, tugging the hood of the hoodie he had on loan from Paps over his head and his scarf over his teeth before trekking through the woods, heading toward Snowdin and taking the back way to the house at the end of the town.

He stepped up to the backdoor and quietly knocked.

Several seconds later, he felt a familiar hum of magic around him, feeling something press threatening to the back of his cervical bones before the door unlocked and cracked open, a red eyelight gleaming out at him before dilating in surprise.

“What the actual fu—“ The magic vanished from behind Papyrus as the door opened further, Edge staring at him. “What the hell are you DOING here?”

Papyrus reached up and tugged his scarf down. “I came to visit,” he replied genially. “...and I brought something for you.”

Edge flicked his eyelights between Papyrus and the air behind him before grumbling and stepping aside. “Hurry up,” he snapped, shutting the door as soon as Papyrus was inside, locking it behind him. “Pretty gutsy coming here,” he said, crossing his arms. “I don't think you need a reminder of what it's like here.”

“No, you don't.” Papyrus pulled his hood back, shaking the snow from his shoulders. “And I have my ways to get around.”

Edge snorted, rolling his eyelights. “Right. So. What's the deal being here?”

Papyrus reached into the bag, taking out the jacket that had been lent to him. “...here,” he said. “It was a little scuffed, so I mended it up, but I figured you wanted it back.”

Edge stared at it for a moment before taking it, holding it in his hands quietly for several moments as though he literally never expected to see it again. “...tch...I would've made a new one...” he muttered quietly, though he made no move to give it back. “...but I'm guessing you didn't come here JUST to give it back.”

Papyrus shrugged a little. “...you're right,” he replied. “I wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“...just talk.”

Edge's jaw twitched slightly. “...I don't get it. Is this a joke?”

Papyrus sighed. “...no,” he replied, rubbing his arm. “It's just a request. You don't have to if you don't want to.”

“I don't,” Edge said immediately. “But regardless of whether I want to or not, I know myself enough to know how persistent I am.” He jerked his head to the living room and Papyrus followed, sitting down quietly on one end of the couch as Papyrus took the other. “So what do you want to....TALK about?”

Papyrus shifted a little. “...when I came here...I know I offended you by talking about things I had no business talking about,” he finally said after a few moments. “...and you were right. Things...situations are different. I've seen enough universes to know that.”

“...universes.”

“What, you didn't think mine and yours were the only ones, did you?”

“Of course not! But the insinuation that you've seen more—“

“More than I'd like to admit.” Papyrus leaned back on the couch, looking tired. “...and I've learned more about myself than I ever thought I'd know.”

Edge frowned. “...I don't follow,” he said. “Why are you telling ME this?”

Papyrus contemplated the coffee table for a brief moment. “...because I see a lot more of you in myself that I thought,” he finally said. “And because...after taking about it with...someone...it just became clear that I AM you. And you ARE me. Only circumstances changed what we became.”

He wrung his hands together before an imaginary chastising made him clench them into his hoodie instead. “...I insulted your life...your experiences...all of them are YOURS but they could have just as easily been mine. And I wanted to apologize for that.”

Edge's crossed arms tensed slightly, his expression unreadable. “....heh....what kind of soft universe do you come from, traipsing across time and space to apologize for something like that...” he muttered, though sounding more amused than anything. “You don't need to apologize. I'm well aware of how shitty my world is, and how shitty all the people in it are, myself included. But it's who we are and what we do to make it through the day. That's all.” He glanced at Papyrus. “....and...if I'm being generously honest with you, which you should APPRECIATE, by the way....seeing who you are....what you might come from....it's....” He grimaced as though the words left a sour taste in his mouth. “...reassuring.”

Papyrus gave him a weak smile before tightening his hands into his hoodie again. “...and I understand you much better,” he said. “...because Sans hurt me too.” Edge's head snapped up to stare at him, and Papyrus sighed. “...his intentions were good, but...it still hurt...down to a level that hurt my SOUL.” He pressed one hand against his rib cage. “...and we had a fight. A couple of fights. And they HURT me...but they also hurt HIM. And I hate it when that happens...especially since I've seen how much he suffers without my knowing.”

Edge scowled, his crossed arms tightening. “...he brought it on himself!” he snapped, his eyelights quivering. “No one MADE him delve into that Void shit! No one MADE him lose all hope! No one MADE him lash out at innocents, and HURT them! He was WEAK! He's WEAK!” He sat back hard against the couch, his teeth grinding hard. “Our brothers are fucking WEAK. And then gods forBID we show weakness in return, FORBID we have a hard day because theirs' are SO much harder and they have to take it out on ME!”

Papyrus clenched his hands before reaching out and hesitantly touching Edge's arm, his fingers twitching at the other's flinch. “...if he's anything like my Sans,” he said, “then his life IS hard. And yes...he lashed out. But your life is hard too...and you lashed out back. And...now you both are constantly angry and don't know how to apologize.”

“I shouldn't HAVE to! HE attacked FIRST!”

“But you should be the bigger Monster and apologize first.”

Edge growled. “After what HE did, he deserves all the pain he gets!” His eye sockets looked suspiciously damp. “He PROMISED me that we would be different. That HE would be different. Then one day he comes home, gets pissed off when I worry, and hurls me into a wall before...!” He gestured sharply to the scarred eye socket. “And he NEVER APOLOGIZED FOR IT!”

Papyrus sighed, squeezing Edge's arm lightly. “Has he...acted like he was sorry?” Edge's teeth ground harder.

“It doesn't MATTER,” he hissed. “He never SAID it.”

“...if he apologized to you, would you feel better?”

Edge's body tensed before slumping almost weakly. “...I don't know.”

* * *

 

Sans took a shortcut home, mostly to avoid the upcoming blizzard but also because the Dogs were in a bad mood and the last thing he needed was to become a chew toy. He reappeared in his kitchen, his guard instantly up when he felt the presence of TWO people in the house. A few moments of vigilance later and feeling no killer intentions, he lowered his guard a little enough to hear something...odd.

Crying.

He crept to the edge of the kitchen door, keeping out of sight as he listened in, his soul jumping when he could recognize the voice of his own brother as the one doing the crying. Oh gods, oh fuck, what was happening?!

“—and he just doesn't GET it!” Edge snapped, fruitlessly wiping tears from his face. “He FIGHTS me every step of the fucking WAY, when I just want him to LIVE!” He scrubbed at his face, growling. “I work so fucking HARD to keep him safe, but he doesn't even seem to CARE if he lives or dies! You think I only feel PLEASURE when I kick his ass to the ground!? NO! I can't show weakness to him or the fuckers who live here would only kill him just to get a rise out of me!”

There was a crash as he kicked the coffee table that made Sans jump.

“He was left alone here for ten years, and he's developed HORRIBLE habits that I have been trying to FUCKING HARD to break! WHY can't he be as strong as he was when he shattered my hope and almost cracked my skull open, huh!? Where's his fucking power NOW!? Why do I have to be the one who protects HIM all the time!? Why can't he just.....j...just....TRY?!”

Sans felt his soul drop, hearing his brother let out a muffled sob into his hands, raising his own shaking hands to his teeth.

“...listen...” the other presence said, and Sans nearly jumped when he heard what could only be his own brother speaking, but...not. “...I think it's admirable that you still try so hard. It can't be easy pretending you hate him so much when you really care...and he doesn't acknowledge how hard you work. But I know for a fact that he DOES care...I just...I think you both don't know how to say it outright. You know?”

Sans heard his brother let out a scoff. “Ten years is a long time to make up,” he said darkly. “And we've only been back together for four. And...I honestly doubt either of us will live long enough to say what we need to.”

The other sighed. “...I can't help you there,” he said. “I can't force you two to talk it out. It doesn't work that way. But...do you at least feel better talking about it?”

Pause. “....sort of. But not by much.” A sigh. “...Sans will be home soon...and I would rather not open up this can of worms with you being here.”

“I understand.” Shuffling on the couch. “I'll leave then. But...think about what I said earlier, alright?”

“...I'll think about it. I'd say don't be a stranger, but these talks are NOT going to be a frequent thing.”

“I hear you loud and clear. I'll see myself out.”

“Great. I need to go wash my face before Sans asks questions.”

“...Goodbye.”

“.........................goodbye.”

Sans leaned against the wall, his body shaking hard with what he had heard, and nearly jumped out of his own skeleton when someone passed right next to him on the way to the back door. Having expected whoever it was to use the front, he barely withheld an embarrassing squeak of shock, but still made enough noise to get their attention.

…..and he saw his brother.

But it WASN'T his brother. This Skeleton wasn't quite as broad and had much smoother edges, as well as normal teeth and crystal-clear eyelights that seemed sad. In an instant, he recalled seeing glimpses, dreams, of other universes that might be, and just FEELING the compassion, care, and understanding of this one's soul, he couldn't help but think

_This is who my brother could have been._

The 'if it wasn't for me' being a hasty, painfully true tag-on.

This other Papyrus gave him a startled look, one that Sans now remembered seeing on the Skeleton he witnessed weeks ago just before he vanished, before it settled into something almost sad. “...hello,” he said quietly. Sans shifted where he stood, instinctively cowed by his brother's presence, even if this wasn't HIS brother.

“.....hi,” he replied.

Silence.

This Papyrus glanced back briefly. “...I wish I could stay and talk, but...I really should be going,” he said before lifting a bag and holding it out to Sans. “...this is for you.”

Sans glanced between this Papyrus and the bag several times before taking it and looking inside, pulling out a faux-leather jacket that looked like it would be a little big on him, but it was obviously hand-crafted. “...what's this?” he asked critically.

“A jacket,” this Papyrus replied. “...your brother let me borrow one of his....and I was making this one anyway, so...now you have a matching set.” He gave Sans a smile that almost broke the elder Skeleton's soul; it was a smile Sans hadn't seen since Papyrus was a baby bones and it almost made him drop the gift in his hands. “I hope you like it,” this Papyrus continued. “Anyway...goodbye.”

Before Sans could say anything else, there was a ripple of disturbance in time/space before this Papyrus vanished.

Did......he just use a SHORTCUT?

Sans shook his head a little, his bizarre meter having reached its limit before looking back down at the jacket before shrugging the one had on off and tugging this one on. As he figured, it was a little big, but it was actually pretty comfortable. Warm, too. He allowed himself a little grin and slipped his hands into the pockets to test them out, first feeling that they were considerately lined with warm flannel to keep his hands warm, and then he felt a slip of paper in the left pocket.

He frowned, taking it out and unfolding it, seeing written in careful writing,

_**YOUR BROTHER LOVES YOU VERY MUCH** _

***

Edge sat on his bed as he looked at the jacket in his hands, recalling when Sans had returned it to him after he had almost thrown it away because of how dingy it had gotten. He had been honestly surprised to see it; the jacket happened to be one of his casual favorites and he had been just a little sorry to see it go, but when Sans gave it back to him, delicately and carefully fixed up, he had almost thanked his older brother for the consideration.

He sighed; it would have been so damn easy to show gratitude...then again, SANS could stand to show some gratitude other than that disgusting display of kowtowing that was SUPPOSED to be for show and meant NOTHING in terms of how to properly thank someone.

Edge paused before tugging the jacket on, liking how comfortable it felt on his frame again and wondered why he didn't bother to wear it after Sans had repaired it. He adjusted it a little, putting his hands in the pockets to make sure they were empty and paused when he felt something inside the right pocket. He pulled it out, seeing a crumpled piece of paper and frowned, thinking it was a note from his other self as he opened it.

**fixed your jacket. sorry you tore it killing those guys for me.**

Edge stared at the note, feeling a sense of the gratitude he had previously desired seeping from those words, seeing how carefully they had been written out, considering Sans's naturally-sloppy handwriting. He sat back down on the bed, staring at the note for several long moments before there was a knock on his door.

“...Boss? ….....Can we talk?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized reading back on it that Underfell had the least amount of depth to the story; I kinda wanted to change that.


	12. Meeting the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a tiny chapter, but there's an epilogue to go with it! *sits back* Whew, this story has emotionally drained me from start to finish. I just hope you all enjoyed it as much as I have!

Papyrus knew that things were different now, and while not for the better, they were certainly not for the worse either.

He and Sans had a mutual understanding now, something that they could both shoulder as so to not overburden the other. And for that, Papyrus was grateful. Not just for Sans giving him support, but for Sans to trust him to give that support BACK.

Papyrus was no longer under any delusions of what his brother had to go through. Sans had SUFFERED. HORRENDOUSLY. And Papyrus, just from universe-hopping curiosity, had seen the suffering Sans was put there again and again and again, and it broke his soul to even wonder the exact number of times it had happened.

He wanted to hug his brother and never let go, ever, if anything just to give Sans the peace of mind that Papyrus was safe and okay.

As comforting a thought it actually was—for the both of them—it was incredibly unrealistic and not a viable way to live. Sans wanted better things for Papyrus, and Papyrus wanted better for himself too. And what better to start, than with his personal life?

Papyrus had finally gotten the nerve to talk to Undyne about everything, saying how he knew she had lied about wanting him in the Guard and faked the cooking lessons and kept up the rouse for months.

Undyne went silent, contemplating her cup of tea in heavy guilt for the longest time after Papyrus finished speaking, her fins drooping slightly.

“...Papyrus...you know I never meant to hurt you, right?”

Papyrus sighed, nodding a little; Mistress back in that Lust universe had told him that much. “I know. But it still stings.” He flexed his hands around his own cup of tea. “...I just...want to know why you couldn't TELL me.”

Undyne leaned back in her chair, her eye still on her tea. “...I honestly considered it,” she replied. “After standing outside my door all night, I knew that someone THAT dedicated to an idea was worth testing out, at least. So we sparred....and Papyrus...” The corners of her mouth twitched upward. “...Being frank, you fucking AMAZED me. You had finesse, you had stamina, you had POWER...while we were fighting, I kept thinking, with just a little more discipline, you could take me on within MONTHS.”

Her smile faded slowly. “...but then you got a hit in on me, you dropped everything, and started apologizing and fretting and you even CRIED.” She huffed softly. “...I couldn't put it on my conscience to mess you up like that in battle, Papyrus....but I also couldn't bear the thought of breaking your heart by telling you you weren't good enough, because you WERE. You just...weren't RIGHT for the Guard.  You were too innocent.  Not in the 'babyish' kind of way!" she added quickly.  "But...in the way that's optimistic about EVERYTHING, that believes that ANYTHING is possible.  I didn't want to be the reason you would ever lose that, Papyrus.  It's what makes you special and wonderful."  She closed her eye, sighing.  "...but...I was too much of a coward to break your heart by telling you I couldn't set aside my personal feelings and let you in.  So I wanted to help you find something else...something BETTER...and while we had...'cooking lessons', I got to know you, and it became even HARDER to contemplate telling the truth because friends shouldn't hurt friends like that.  And you're my BEST friend, Papyrus.  That means I only want the BEST for you.  And being in the Guard...it would've ruined that."

Papyrus's hands shook slightly, his eye sockets brimming with tears that dripped into his tea.  He thought about his other selves that had been in the Guard, how hurt and stressed and BROKEN being there had made them...and through his hurt, he couldn't help but feel a rush of THANKFULNESS that it hadn't been him too.

"...thank you, Undyne..." he said softly, his voice quivering.  "...thank you for being my friend."

Undyne grinned.  "Hey, ANYONE would be LUCKY to have you as a friend.  I just consider myself one of the luckiest of luckies."  Her grin softened.  "...But really, Papyrus...I just hope you find something that makes you happy...something that's all YOU."

Papyrus beamed.  "Actually, I have Alphys looking into something for me," he chriped.  "It turns out I have a knack for engineering physics.  Who knew?"  He sipped his tea, getting more than a little satisfaction at seeing Undyne dribbling tea through her slacked teeth. 

***

The house was tidied, his bones were clean, and his sheets were freshly laundered as Papyrus slipped into bed, taking a moment to set his clock for a five am wake-up before settling back and sighing.  Talking to Sans and Undyne, getting the little things off of his chest...it was a relief of a burden he hardly knew he was carrying until it was gone.  Papyrus settled into the sheets, wondering if he was even going to even attempt a full sleeping night, as full as his head was with thoughts and anticipation.

He thought about the other universes, of his connection to all of them down to the soul.

He thought about Paps and hoped he had a good night's sleep too.

He thought about Edge, wondering if he and his brother ever had a good talk.

He thought about that Swap-Fell Papyrus, and prayed for a mended soul.

He thought about Lust, wishing for him to find what he was truly happy with too.

He thought about that Horror universe, wondering if they had a proper meal.

He thought about his self made of dust and Determination, wishing for him and his brother to finally have peace.

He thought about that creature that had been a father once, giving him a silent 'night, Dad' he knew the creature could hear.

He thought about Sans who was snoring in his room, going on three full nights without a nightmare, and stroke to keep it that way.

He thought about upkeep training with Undyne, excited about them both sharing more friend-bonding activities to come.

He thought about the interview Alphys had set him up with tomorrow to test his proficiency in engineering, hopeful for the best.

And the last thought in his head as he dropped off to sleep, was how despite everything, he was still himself.


	13. Meeting a Brand New Day

 

Papyrus blinked awake, everything in his room muted and almost TOO quiet.  Outside was dark, making Papyrus wonder if there was a blizzard coming in; he hoped not.  Today was a big day for him, and while he supposed he COULD put on snow boots and run through it like a champ, he really didn't want to muss up his clothing and make a bad impression.  He yawned, sitting up in bed and rubbed his eye sockets as he stretched out--

And froze.

He found his stretching hindered, rubbing the bleariness out of his eye sockets and looked down.

He was in his race car bed.

In his old room.

In the Underground.

Papyrus mechanically got out of his bed and looked out the window, seeing the flicker of lights outside his window, and his early bird neighbors of Snowdin strolling around. 

_This wasn't right._

On autopilot, he walked to his closet, seeing his old 'battle body' hanging up neatly before he put it on.

_This wasn't RIGHT._

He pulled on his boots.

_THIS WASN'T RIGHT._

He tugged on his gloves.

_THIS.  WASN'T.  RIGHT._

He grabbed his scarf that was draped over his computer desk chair, curling it around his neck bones and standing in the middle of his room, his body feeling comfortable and at home but his mind was screaming bloody murder that _THIS WASN'T RIGHT THIS WASN'T RIGHT THIS WASN'T RIGHT--_

"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAANS!"

Papyrus bolted out of his room, actually leaping over the second-floor railing and landing on the ground floor, looking around wildly and seeing Sans stroll out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee.  "SANS--"

"Mornin' bro," Sans said smiling over the rim of his coffee cup.  "Yer pretty gung-ho.  Excited to catch a human?"

Papyrus could feel his soul freeze over; that complacent grin...that humoring tone of voice that he had come to DESPISE....oh no no no no no no no.....he parted his jaws to beg Sans to stop, but what came out was, "Of COURSE I am, brother!"  _What was he SAYING!?_ "But what are you still doing here?  You're going to be late AGAIN, you lazybones!"  _No no no, stop, Sans isn't LIKE that!_

Sans gave him a shrug and a wider grin.  "Ah, just slept in, you know me," he replied good-naturedly.  "But when you're right, you're right!  See you for lunch, right?"  He winked before heading out with his coffee, closing the door behind him, leaving Papyrus inwardly panicking in the living room, his body flicking to autopilot again to walk outside.

_THIS WASN'T RIGHT_

He had to go to his sentry station.

_HE WASN'T EVEN REALLY A SENTRY_

He had to go on patrol for a few hours before heading to Undyne's for training.

_IT ISN'T TRAINING NO NO NO STOP IT_

And he had to remain vigilant

_NO NO NO_

so he could

_PLEASE NO WHY WHY WHY_

catch

_WHY WHY WHY_

a hum--

 _"NO!"_ Papyrus screamed, covering his head with his hands, dropping to his knees.  _"NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE GOD NO NO NO NO_ **NO** _\--"_ He forced himself OUT--

\--and to the only other place that made any sense.

* * *

 

Paps looked up when he heard a frantic pounding on his front door, wondering what on earth THAT could be about. He ground out his cigarette and walked to the door, opening it and didn't even have time to say 'hello' before he was barreled into and got an armful of Papyrus who was shaking and sobbing so hard Paps almost lost his grip. “Oh damn, 'Rus, wha...?”

“TAKE IT BACK!” Papyrus screamed, his face drenched in tears. “TAKE IT BACK, MAKE IT BE NORMAL AGAIN!”

Paps pulled Papyrus inside, kicking the door shut before collapsing onto the floor with his other self, trying to keep Papyrus from completely and utterly shattering in his arms. “'Rus, come on, just breathe and tell me what ha—“

“IT ISN'T RIGHT!” Papyrus wailed, shaking hard enough to rattle his bones. “I WAS—IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE—AND THEN I WAS BACK THERE—!” He let out a despaired keen of agony. “I WAS BACK UNDERGROUND! _WHY AM I BACK UNDERGROUND!?_ ”

“Back Under....oh........oh gods...!” Paps hugged Papyrus to him tightly, feeling sick to his soul. “Oh gods, 'Rus, I'm....I'm so sorry....!”

Papyrus's first conscious Reset.

The fate worse than death.

Paps could only hold Papyrus and let the other sob himself out, something he knew would take a long time, but he didn't care one bit. He only wished he had someone there for HIM on his first conscious Reset.

He managed to pick Papyrus up and carry him to the couch, sitting back and just waiting for the worst to pass.

And pass it did.

After a couple long hours of slowly-quelling sobs down to the occasional hiccup, Papyrus finally let his body slump against the couch and Paps, his eye sockets almost lifeless. Paps noticed, fishing his cigarettes out of his hoodie pocket, holding it out. “...y'need one?” he asked. Papyrus nodded, weakly fishing one out and holding it between his teeth as Paps lit it, letting smolder for a few moments before exhaling heavily.

“...why did it happen, Paps...?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse and shaky. “...e...everything was...going so well.....Sans....Sans and I talked....Undyne and I talked......I was...getting used to things......I even...I was...even going to have an interview in the engineering department of Alphys's labs....!” His breath hitched hard. “And...and I woke up, and I was...!”

“Shhh, I know...” Paps soothed, petting Papyrus's shoulder. “I know, man...trust me...I do...” He rubbed at his eye sockets, sighing. “...y'think it's all wonderful an' perfect an' then...yer back where you started. All yer progress......gone.” He fished out a cigarette for himself, taking a deep drag.

“...I don't know why it happened, 'Rus...or why th' kid decided to Reset.” He leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “...sometimes it's boredom...or panic....sometimes....sometimes they just have a bad accident an' shit goes wrong an' they wanna make it right again. I don't know why your kid decided to at this time...but if yer world is anything like mine...you have about a week until they come back. A week to get yer metaphorical shit together an' try again.”

Papyrus sniffled, wiping at his tear-crusted face. “...Sans....goes through this all the time...” he said, mostly to himself, then stiffened. “...but.....oh gods, he didn't....he...”

Paps frowned. “...he what?”

Papyrus sat up straight, his hand trembling. “....he didn't say ANYTHING to me...” he breathed, panic coming back to his voice. “I...I KNOW I never jumped from the second floor before, but he just pretended it was NORMAL...like...like BEFORE never even HAPPENED...!”

“Hey, settle down, 'Rus,” Paps said, putting a firm hand on Papyrus's shoulder. “Look, like you said, he's been through this COUNTLESS times....he's probably just.....going through the motions, like always...”

Papyrus shook his head. “No...no, I...I was SAYING the usual thing, but...I KNOW I wasn't FEELING it...Sans ALWAYS knows when something's wrong with me, why....?” He pressed a hand to his face, shaking. “...Paps....what if me...getting this power messed things up with my timeline? What if I messed up HIS recollection of Resets?!”

Paps sat there quietly, contemplating his cigarette smoke before sighing several moments later. “It's a possibility,” he replied truthfully. “You gettin' this power...it's somethin' new and unprecidented...an' that CAN have weird effects on timelines.” He ground out his cigarette, sighing again. “The only advice I can give to you is decide whether or not to tell him.” He shrugged. “It's a crap shoot either way, buddy. He can either be goin' through his motions, or he forget the last set an' is starting from ground zero. Whether or not to tell him...it's all you.”

Papyrus groaned, flopping back on the couch, covering his skull with his hands. “...I don't think I can do this....I'm not.......I'm not strong like Sans is...”

Paps sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, flopping back next to Papyrus. “...you gotta be,” he said frankly. “Because it doesn't stop, 'Rus. An' if it's worst-case scenario...he'll need you, and you'll need him.” He tapped Papyrus's skull with his own. “...I'll still be here if you need me.”

Papyrus managed a tiny smile, repeating back the gesture. “...thank you,” he said, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before sitting up. “...I think I'm okay now...but I'm sure I'll be back when this duct tape around my psyche snaps.”

“Blasphemy! Nothing breaks duct tape,” Paps replied, grinning up at Papyrus. “Tell ya what. Bring some of Grillby's top-shelf stuff an' we'll call it even.”

Papyrus gave him a shaky smile, standing up. “...I'd best be going before I lose my nerve,” he said quietly, flexing his hands. “...wish me luck.”

“Yer gonna need it.” Paps gave Papyrus a thumbs-up before sitting up himself, giving Papyrus a serious look. “...an'...if the kid comes out with any dust on 'em....watch yer neck.”

Papyrus felt a phantom pain in his cervical bones, swallowing down a wince as he nodded. “...alright. Goodbye, Paps.”

“Bye, 'Rus.”

Papyrus stepped back, clenching his hands before vanishing out.

He kept his eye sockets open, passing through flashes of light and dark, glancing to the side and seeing what looked like a window-like screen in the space between the light and dark, a brief glance giving him a view of a melted, cracked skull giving him a comforting look.

**IT WILL BE OKAY, PAPYRUS**

Papyrus gave a brief nod before coming out into the world again, standing in front of his home. He instinctively knew what time it was; shift-change off, where he would be going home for the day, and Sans too. He took a deep breath and let it out before walking inside.

Sans was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, giving Papyrus a smile. “Where've you been all day, Paps?” he asked, putting the remote down. “You left your phone at home an' Undyne's been blowin' it up.”

Papyrus let go of expectations; he let go of wondering if Sans was doing masterful faking or genuinely didn't know; he let go of everything except the future he was now going to share with his brother.

He took a deep breath and stepped into his house.

“....Sans...”

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. I leave it open-ended for y'all to interpret how it goes. It's been a BLAST writing it and I'm so glad everyone liked it! I dunno if I'll expand on the idea (I have a horrible habit of doing that oTL) but if something comes up, you'll be the first to know! :D


End file.
